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SACRED MINSTRELSY. 



SACRED MINSTRELSY. 



; UNE FETJILLE DANS MON LIVRE, 
' EST UN JOUR DANS 31 A VIE." 




The Profits arising from the Sale of this Volume to be bestowed on 
Charitable Purposes. 



LONDON: 

HATCHARD AND SONS ; J. NISBET AND CO. ; 

HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO. ; SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. 

COLCHESTER : JOHN TAYLOR, JUN. 



1836. 



pR5l fc $ 



PREFACE. 



As I was sauntering upon the shores of the Mediterranean, 
on a beautiful spring evening, watching an Italian sunset, 
I felt as it were to sympathize with the lovely scene 
around me, and taking out my pencil, I sketched off my 
Wanderer. Though I perfectly agree with Horace, viz., 
" Poeta nascitur haud fit," yet classic scenes will some- 
times cause the ideas to flow in liquid measures ; during 
these my ramblings, I noted from time to time my reflec- 
tions, and amused *nyself with various translations. On 
retrospection I have been enabled to ascertain the exact 
bias of my mind at various periods : this self-examination 
has consequently led to self-abasement, and in proportion 
as I beheld my state by nature, I was struck with admi- 
ration at the power, the wisdom, and the love of God, in 
providing a means commensurate with His attributes, that 
fallen man might attain to the blessings of the just. 

If a Christian brother may be inclined to differ from 
me upon minor points, I would take the liberty of sug- 
gesting to him, that the body of Christ is composed of 



VI PREFACE. 

many members, and though the sentiments of some may 
appear to be at variance with others, yet, on more minute 
examination, all will prove to harmonize, and to be in 
perfect subjection to the Head. Love and obedience must 
always form the Christian's chorus, and what may be 
considered discord to the uninitiated, becomes perfect 
harmony in the ears of the musician. With anxiety, 
though with diffidence, I follow after truth, which prompts 
me to subscribe myself 

PHILALETHES. 



August 22nd, 1836. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Pleasures of Reality, in Two Cantos 2 

The Pearl of Price 44 

Notes to the Pearl of Price , 57 

The Song of Peace ... 62 

The Song of Peace continued 100 

The Song of Grace, in Four Cantos 122 

Miscellaneous Pieces: — Translations from the) 

Chants cle Sion ) 

Psalm xxxii. paraphrased 186 

Psalm xci. ditto..... 187 

The Wanderer: a Fragment 189 

Fare Thee Well 194 

On the Mediterranean 195 

On the Death of % * * * % # 196 

Impromptu at Chamouni 197 

Auream quisquis mediocritatem diligit 1 98 

Upon the Text of Scripture over the Palpit at Nice... 198 

Upon Parting with Friends, &c 199 

In a Bible, a Present to ^ % # # %. # 199 

Upon an ancient Aqueduct 200 

Two Extraordinary Dreams 200 

Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained 203 

Upon my Infant 205 

On Retiring to Rest 207 

The Hour of Prayer 207 

Reflections on Romans viii, 28 209 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAG* 

Reflections at the Toinb of Gessner, the German Poet 210 

Reflections on Micah ii. 10 212 

On the Lake of Como 214 

Reflections on the 1 Corinthians viii. 1, 2 216 

The Contrast 218 

From the German 221 

On the Ten Commandments, &c 221 

A Doggrel Satire: founded on Fact 222 

Lines written in an Almanac 224 

All is not Gold that glitters : a Doggrel 224 

The Answer 225 

Upon hearing the ancient Convent Bell at Interlaken 225 

IlNatale: from the Italian 226 

On reading Lines in "The Old Cumberland Beggar" 230 

Reflections on " The Last Supper" 231 

Farewell to Switzerland 232 

Contentment 234 

On Plutarch's Juvenal 234 

On Dinner Parties 235 

A Tale- founded on Fact 236 

On Trees of Liberty, &c 244 

The Christian's Epitaph 245 

The Lukewarm Christian 245 

Reflections on the Plains of Waterloo 247 

The Loss 249 

Reflections on Twilight 250 

To Prayer ... 252 

Reflections on the Fall 253 

On a Christian Smuggler 255 

To my Lyre 256 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 
% IBoem : in Ctoo Cantos. 



; - Man walketh in a vain shadow.' 



CANTO I. 

Imagination and her mystic train, 
Once rais'd her empire o'er my fever' d brain ; 
Fond memory gilded scenes already past. 
While hope her anchor on the future cast ; 
But if, perchance, truth's penetrating beam 
Pierc'd, tho' unwelcome, thro' delusion's dream. 
Retracing paths, remembrance shrunk to hail, 
Where transient hope once told a flatt'ring tale ; 
What disappointment ! what a deep-felt sigh ! 
When thus intruded, dull reality. 

Soon as Aurora ushers in the morn, 
When icicles bedeck the ragged thorn, 
The lifeless waste looks sparkling, gay, and bright 
Tho' bound in winter's stern and nipping blight, 
Imagination wakes in fond surprise, 
But finds th' unwelcome moral in disguise. 



4 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

A single glance ! ah ! then the fiction's fled, 

The silvery vest hast fallen from the dead ; 

That orb which animates the cheerful scene, 

Reduces all to what it once had been. 

Friend of the world ! who would the carivass fill 

"With pleasure's breezes, at a wish or will — 

On what a troubled ocean bends the sail, 

Experience cries, if all thy wishes fail ! 

And fail they must, tho' youth's enchanting dawn 

Tempt thee to treat reality with scorn ; 

Piloted off, then left on the expanse, 

Without more hopes, than what arise thro' chance. 

From that delusive path I shrink with dread, 

Where the false treach'rous friend his victim led : 

Ah ! wondrous change — I now rejoice to sing, 

And to the moles and bats I haste to fling 

What savours not of this reality, 

The once sad thought that I must surely die ! — 

That I must die ! Oh ! no, it cannot be, 

Thanks be to God, who gave me pow'r to see 

That I am not time's fading, fragile, bust — 

The spirit is the gem, and not the dust : 

Each fond desire is wafted from on high, 

For each is stamp'd with immortality. 

Imagination is a treach'rous sound, 

Like bells that sweetly run their changes round ; 

A visionary phantom wildly trac'd, 

And by a neat vocabulary grac'd; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

He, who his sentiments can best enshroud 

By fiction, is the fav'rite of the crowd ; 

But, if reality should once appear, 

The baseless fabric vanishes in air ; 

Soon as the heroine becomes a wife, 

Romance is ended, all is real life. 

Imagination issues from the mind, 

Yet thro' the senses pitiably defin'd ; 

Whene'er she takes her flight o'er realms unknown, 

Her pois'nous seeds along the course are strewn ; 

Ah ! melancholy reason, far too plain, 

Man, sinful man it is, that holds the rein ; 

Th' unconscious follower feels, alas ! secure, 

But finds, too late, the treacherous allure; 

These dang'rous paths I shun, by others trod, 

My theme is truth, my only prompter, God. 

View yonder vessel dashing round the spray, 
As she ploughs swiftly through a trackless way ; 
The earth is spurn'd that lies upon her lee, 
And her prow boldly courts the wide, wide sea, 
Leaving an hundred others on her stern — 
They first may envy, but experience learn ; 
Tho' amidst breakers she is never toss'd. 
Her course is madness, for her charts are lost — 
Behold an hidden rock hath graz'd her side, 
And closes all her vaunted pomp and pride ; 
Those buoyant waves, which on their bosom bore. 
Have overwhelm'd her, and she's seen no more ! 



6 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

The 'Telos dran of the Pagan Greek, 
Doth it not volumes to the conscience speak 7 
Oh ! what a moment the impending game ! 
If lost, it ne'er can be recall' d again ! 
Once on a time, a light canoe was seen 
To glide down rapidly St. Laurence 9 stream ; 
The lazy oar the waters scarcely clave, 
So swiftly to destruction sped the slave, 
While ev'ry boat he met against the tide 
With vaunting jeers and ridicule he plied ; 
At last he fell asleep and dropp'd his oar, 
But soon was startled by a dreadful roar — 
Yes, 'twas Niagara ! he sought to gain 
His oars, but they were gone ! he look'd in vain ; 
The strength' ning current hurried him away, 
When frantic, he was seen 'midst falling spray 
To throw himself at length in the canoe ; 
He clos'd his eyes, his cloak around him drew, 
Then down the falls, from one, to t'other fell, 
And not a vestige could the sequel tell. 
And thou, despiser of reality, 
What difference exists 'twixt him and thee ? 
His fate but temporary might have been, 
But thine ! I dare not open forth the scene ! 
" Nay," one will say, " Why live in dark despair, 
" When years run smoothly, without anxious care ?' 7 
These rolling years, how rapidly they close ! 
Thus the impetuous river onward flows, 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 7 

O'er which thy fragile bark is swiftly borne, 

In safety thro' the sand banks, rocks, and storm, 

With mad delight and visionary bliss, 

To be ingulph'd within the dread abyss. 

Far diff 'rent is the penitent's remark, 

When God, in mercy, stops his fleeting bark : — 

" How strong these waters rush against my side, 

6w On which I once so easily did glide ; 

t; What gibes, and ribaldry, and angry frown. 

" On me are cast by those fast hurrying down ; 

" How heavily and feebly moves my oar, 

" Ah ! shall I ever reach the wish'd-for shore?" 

These plaints exhort the spirit to rejoice, 

They prove the whisp'rings of the still small voice ; 

All thy bewailings are in mercy sent, 

To keep thine helm in hand, thy canvass bent ; 

Ofttimes in troubles, doublings, and distress, 

Mankind will hate, despise you, and oppress ; 

Tho' weak, and fainting, be ye of good cheer, 

This world is conquer d, Christ is with thee here ; 

When earth must stagger under time's rude shock, 

Thou'lt stand secure on the eternal rock. 

The faithful sower scattered once the grain, 
Which lies conceal'd within the furrow'd plain, 
With genial show'rs it quickly vivifies, 
And the green blades above the earth arise; 
What beauteous types doth nature daily paint. 
Of death and resurrection to the saint : 



8 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

There's not a leaf that falleth to the. ground. 

But makes my spirit leap tho' prison-bound ; 

For well I know that next returning spring, 

Will o'er again, her varied beauties fling ; 

Each usher' d morn, Thj promises record, 

(Can grace alone be 'reft of her reward '?) 

And disappointments whisper in my ear, 

What seekest thou ? an habitation here *? 

Yes, ev'ry soul has silently confess'd 

Its immortality, by want of rest. 

In vain assent what multitudes have laid, 

And tares instead of wheat have been the blade, 

Their formal pray'rs no sooner parch the lip, 

Then back to pleasure's cup they haste, to sip 

Their transient hopes ; to scrutinize ne'er durst, 

Lest thro' delusion's clouds the truth should burst, 

While the arch demon in their path- way throws, 

Some flow'r to lull them in a false repose. 

When all was still, and freed from pomp and state, 
See Zion's king go forth to meditate, 
'Reft for a while of this world's passing toy, 
What bursts escape his lips, of praise and joy : 
" Oh ! Lord this glorious canopy above, 
" Speaks to my soul of Thy eternal love ; 
" For as these countless worlds in silence shine, 
" In harmony they own the work divine ; 
" The great First Cause, thro' faith I comprehend, 
" Without beginning, and without an end— 



rHE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 9 

" This vista renders all the prospect clear, 

" And leads my spirit to its native sphere ; 

" If on imagination's wings I fly, 

" I am surrounded by reality, 

" Each loftier region I attempt to soar, 

" Confirms my wav'ring faith, yea, more and more : 

" Ah ! whither from Thy presence can I hide, 

" Or fail to find Thy Spirit by my side ; 

" If I to Heav'n ascend, Jehovah's there, 

" Yea e'en the depths below, His presence share ; 

" If on the wings of morn, I skirt o'er sea, 

" Thine hand conducts, Thy right hand holdeth me : 

" Lord, what is man to cause Thee aught concern ? 

" And yet Thou carest for the grov'lling worm — 

"The smallest particle of earth, or air, 

" Is not devoid of Thy paternal care ; 

"From atoms to the sun, all spread Thy fame, 

" And Thou, their sole original, proclaim. 

" Great as creation's works, and none have fail'd, 

" A greater still my eye of faith hath hail'd, 

" E'en by this borrow" d light, I clearly see 

" The sable groves of sad Gethsemane ; 

" These dreary olives to my soul portend, 

" A sympathy with nature's only Friend, 

" Staying the gentle zephyr as it flies, 

" And changing its soft music into sighs : 

"There ripples Kedron's foul, and bloody stream, 

" Cross'd by the Son of God ! — what do I dream? 



10 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

" No, for there now arrests my gladden'd eye, 

" The Mount, the precious Mount of Calvary. 

" Thou, whom these myriad worlds could not contain, 

" Wilt suffer here, that rebels may regain 

" Those blessings, wither' d by a righteous curse, ~ 

66 Tho' merely atoms in the universe ; 

" The blood of bulls and goats will flow in vain, 

" For Thine alone can Paradise regain ; 

" What wondrous love ! how vast the work must be! 

" Yes, 'twill resound throughout eternity." 

Newton, to thee, what praise and honour's due, 
Who nature's mantle from her form withdrew, 
Developing th' omnipotence of God, 
And following up the path on which He trod ; 
Thou hast discern' d each planet, comet, star, 
Their orbits, magnitude, or near or far ; 
Hast measur'd off aerial spheres with ease, 
How tints are caus'd, why tides affect the seas, 
And clearly prov'd that centripetal force 
Keeps worlds obedient to th' appointed course : 
Geology, earth's surface has explor'd, 
Thro' strata and substrata it has bor'd, 
Hoping each fossil remnant to explain, 
Each revolution to attest by name : 
Anatomists profess to have defin'd 
The union betwixt body and the mind, 
That muscles do propel or else restrain, 
By nerves laid on, connected with the brain ; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 11 

On purest principles, can reason give 
For certain death, or why these bodies live. 
But vaunt not, sage, how little dost thou know ; ^ 
Tell me what makes the grass you tread on grow, > 
Or why the river doth not upwards flow ? 3 

The principle of motion thou hast found, 
Its perpetuity's beyond thy bound — 
Thy soul could grasp the truth if void of tie, 
But now enveil'd, it seems a mystery ; 
Omnipotence, Omniscience, you reveal, 
Can calculate all this with heart of steel ; 
But if I sound God's highest attribute, 
This precious truth you even dare refute ; 
When David view'd the firmament on high, 
He shrunk abash'd, and cried, " Ah ! what am I?" 
Yet David stood a monument of love, 
A greater work than all he view'd above : 
This love gives light and colour to the whole, 
Sheds gratitude and joy o'er ev'ry soul. 
Then what is love ? a free and perfect gift ; 
But to receive it, God the latch must lift — ■ 
; Tis in the ark, the sinner's hiding place, 3 

Where only we can see, can only trace, > 

Th' inestimable, dear-bought work of grace. J 

Once that the Lord His Spirit deigns to give, 
And speak the quick'ning words, H believe and live," 
How swift the affections fly from futile hopes : 
As the balloon when loosen 5 d from her ropes 

c 



12 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Bids earth farewell, to which she had been pent, t 
And soars aloft in native element. 
Oh ! precious truth, how priz'd when fully known! 
O'er life's rough path what fragrance it hath thrown : 
Faith is the plant, and love th' eternal bloom, ^ 
These fade not even in the cold dark tomb, > 

But bear to heav'n's wide sphere a rich perfume ; 3 
While earthly treasure moth and rust despoil, 
Or thieves break thro', and waste the worldling's toil. 

If upon living faith we homewards soar, 
Truth ev'ry day looks brighter than before ; 
Th' eternal Spirit leads the trackless way, 
We've but to trust, to follow, and obey : 
Rise, heav'nly muse, thy lofty wings expand, 
Burst thro' the chill, dense halo round our land ; 
Give me the courage to ascend on high, 
The tempter's shafts can never upwards fly — 
There, no restraint is laid, nor limit giv'n, 
But ev'ry guest may taste the joys of heav'n. 
Imagination can but darkly paint, 
The peace and joy awaiting ev'ry saint; 
True it outsteps the boundary below, 
But in this atmosphere it moves too slow : 
Yet how mysterious and absurd, I fear, 
This language to the worldling must appear ; 
No argument do I attempt to find — 
Who would descant on colours with the blind? 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 13 

Infatuist ! rouse you, I in love conjure, 

Haste to the great Physician for a cure : 

" What need of cure? I have no foul disease — 

* ' I can restrain my passions as I please ; 

" A well-directed, cultivated mind 

" Disdains all pursuits that are not refin'd; 

" Mere sensuality is brutish, low, 

" I scorn by physic force to deal the blow, 

" Virtue alone this principle can give; 

" By her injunctions I profess to live." 

Yes, you may turn. I grant, the waters course, 

But can you, I demand, dry up the source? 

Prune and manure the crab -tree as you will, 

Unless 'tis grafted > crabs it beareth still : 

But view thy pictur'd life by God's own test, 

A whited sepulchre you seem at best. 

Say, do you value or esteem a friend, 

Without some sordid wish, or selfish end ? 

Sound each profession, or most gen'rous deed. 

Trace them to self — from thence they all proceed. 

How wags, I ask, that little member, tongue, 

When from your neighbour you experience wrong ? 

Scorn's pointed finger, or the word, " despise," 

Applied to thee, what angry passions rise ; 

Your converse, actions, robb'd of little I, 

Proud self exclaims, 'tis better then to die ; 

Thy fellow worm e'en dubs thee hypocrite, 

Unworthy deem'd to wash the Brahmin's feet. 



14 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

When first our parents of the apple ate, 
That moment justice seal'd their offspring's fate : 
Man could do nothing, God must keep his word 
Saith Satan, what remaineth but the sword ? 
But God, so rich in mercy, then decreed, 
That Satan should be bruis'd by woman's seed ; 
That Christ as Mediator should descend, 
And stand for fallen man, his only Friend ; 
Should purchase, by His blood, the marriage ring, 
To wed His lawful spouse 'fore heav'n's high King. 
Soon we perceive in Abel and in Cain, 
The two conflicting parties pictur'd plain; 
The curse on one throughout his life we trace, 
The other stands a monument of grace. 
In heathen times, philosophers, we read, 
Believ'd a future state, as ev'ry deed 
In justice must a retribution meet — 
Which ever here contingencies defeat. 
The Papist even, by his naked eye, 
Admits the truth, and seeks the monast'ry ; 
But as he wills the work should be his own, ^ 

The Gospel truth thro' him is clearer shewn, > 

That none can change the heart, but God alone. J 
All robes save that of Christ, at best are foul, 
Who then would dare investigate the cowl ? 
Or, once surmise, the convent walls inclose 
No crying sin : but let us now suppose 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 15 

For sake of chanty, there's nought to hide, 
How swells the heart with hypocritic pride ! 
On self-inflicted penances 'twill feed. — 
Can love to God from such a source proceed? 
Tell me, ye hooded Anch'rite, if ye can, 
What is your duty to your fellow-man ? 
The Saviour says, for evil, good return, 
Cherish and love the sick, forlorn, infirm — 
Not of the world, but in it, full of love, 
Wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove ; 
If carried off to prison, or to death, 
Then let a Saviour's pardon close thy breath : 
Here is the touchstone ; this ye can't assume, 
Tis hid within, unlike the borrow' d plume, 
Which at a distance, or in sunny rays, 
A beautiful magnificence displays ; 
But, in the boist'rous storm of wind and rain, 
Proves fiction's toil to be a toil in vain. 
Why stand to gaze, content and satisfied, 
On Canaan's Land, from Egypt's dreary side ? 
Yes, you may view, and e'en depict the scene, 
While yet a deep wide river rolls between ; 
You may describe its beauteous paths and flow'rs, 
Its choicest fruit, its well-protected tow'rs, 
With warmth and colour give each light and shade ? 
May even prove a very useful aid — 
Alas ! hold converse with the little band, 
Without an interest in this Holy Land ; 



16 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

While yon poor cottager may know no more, 
Than that she lives upon this peaceful shore, 
But knowing this, a perfect joy can taste, 
When your's, at best, is a fictitious feast. 
" But all my dearest ties are center'd here, 
" With them I love to smile, or drop my tear ; 
" Besides, the sun on us doth likewise shine — 
" Because 'tis sometimes hid, I'll not repine; 
" Whenever tempted by a thought to roam, 
" My inclination says, best stay at home." 
The negro glories in his arid sand, 
Nor would he change it for the fairest land ; 
The Esquimaux, in frosts and icebergs bound, 
Desires no more than what he views around ; 
And every Adam's son by nature's prone 
To prize and cherish what he calls his own. 
Should thoughts within, or flagrant sin without, 
Disturb the conscience, and give rise to doubt, 
Then he will long, and even vent a cry, j 

As Balaam did, the death of saints to die ; > 

But where the tree is fell'd, it there must lie ! 3 
If satisfied with this terrestrial sphere, 
It proves a brighter doth not yet appear ; 
If sublunary joys still cause a zest, 
Thy spirit must respond — " I find no rest," 
And ever wonder what can hold it here, 
Where Morn breathes sighs, and Even leaves her 
tear; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITV. 17 



Where evil's counted good, and bitter sweet, 
And ev'ry cup's o'erflowing with deceit. 
But one on Egypt's ground I may address. 
Who owns his land to be a wilderness ; 
Examine well thy state, ere you consent 
T' abandon all on earth, and then relent : 
Thy pleasures, I admit, may sometimes please, 
But what a sad contingency'^ disease ! 
Suppose them perfect, yet how soon they tire, 
Each passing moment brings some new T desire : 
The rattle which had cost abundant sorrow, 
Was cast aside before the closing morrow : 
What anxious thoughts the bauble to replace ; 
Another found — this met alike disgrace, 
And as you grew from childhood unto man, 
Same was the end, tho' guiltier the plan ; 
Thus from the cradle to the closing grave, 
One wish obtain' d, and you another crave ; 
Beyond the tomb, more dismal still the view — 
Hope, baseless found, must ever prove untrue. 
If to these solemn truths you seem agreed, 
And feel of something still you stand in need, 
Then quit your barren shore with all its dross, 
Enter the boat, 'twill bear you safe across ; 
Once that the Sun of Righteousness hath shone 
On thee, fair Canaan may be call'd thine own ; 
Once God, in mercy, breaks the fragile toy, 
'Tis soon replac'd for one without alloy, 
Which earth's vicissitudes can ne'er destroy. 



i 



18 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Yea, even more, calamities will claim 
Their right to be esteem' d peculiar gain, 
To chase thee out of visionary rest, 
And haste thee to the mansions of the blest. 
Ah ! happy state ! — the once adopted child 
Cries Abba, Father ; God is reconcil'd : 
The precious truth is winged from above, 
And whispers to his soul, thy God is Love. 
Objects appear distorted as they pass, 
If view'd thro' colour'd or distemper'd glass ; 
Thus ev'ry step along his crooked path, 
Proclaim' d Jehovah as a God of wrath : 
His only comfort, Satan's schemes supply, 
To calm his troubled conscience with a lie, 
That God is merciful, " Ye shall not die : " 
Now he perceives the fault was all in him, 
The lens thro' which he look'd was that of sin ; 
That God is merciful he now hath found, 
Not on fictitious, but on solid ground. 
Man must be perfect, ere he can aspire 
To call a perfect God his loving Sire ; 
Perfection's only found in Jesu's vest, 
Here he can fearless stand, completely drest ; 
How else feel pleasure in God's holy sight ? 
His ardent love would prove a with'ring blight ; 
Th' exotic's cherish' d by the burning ray, 
Whilst other plants are faded in a day : 
So false imaginations, hope's deceit, 
Eeceive their just reward, a just defeat; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 19 

But truth, pure truth, alone will bear the test — 
This gives a peace by language unexprest ; 
The law of God stands constant by his side, 
Once his destroyer, now his light and guide ; 
True — the proud flesh is often chasten'd sore, 
As the bright diamond's polish'd o'er and o'er, 
Ere it be counted fit, or dare presume 
To deck the crown or grace the courtly plume. 
These facts confirm' d re- animate my mind. 
God's children are so clear, so well defin'd : 
Thro' ev'ry century, in ev'ry tongue, 
The song of Zion has, and will be sung ; 
Tho' customs, clime, and age may disagree, 
Each distant chord swells forth in harmony, 
While foes without and secret thoughts within 
Confirm the curse, th' o'erwhelming curse of sin. 
How do they speak to ev'ry Christian soul, 
Come out from thence and press towards the goal ; 
The church must from the wilderness ascend, 
But her beloved will his arm extend : 
Stand then on vantage ground, enjoy thy gain, 
Which others falsely seek, but seek in vain ; 
The gift of God so perfect, and so pure, 
In single hearts alone can rest secure ; 
As when bright Phoebus rises from the deep, 
And wakes creation from its deadly sleep, 
Tho' fogs and vapours may resist awhile, 
They soon disperse before the monarch's smile. 

D 



20 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Methought round Chatelard 'twas fairy land, 
Below so soft, above sublimely grand ; 
Where'er I turned, whatever met my eye 
Caus'd thrilling transports vented in a sigh ; 
The vine-clad hamlets cast a varied shade, 
As in their undulating posture laid ; 
How hoarsely brawl'd the distant torrent floods, 
'Neath the dark theatre of hanging woods : 
Here Blonay's ancient turrets proudly rose, 
There on the waters Chillon found repose, 
The evening breezes swell'd the graceful sail, 
On Leman's lake extending thro' the vale, 
Stupendous mountains cloth'd with sombre pine, 
And Meillerie's scarp'd rocks enclos'd the grand 

design ; 
I felt to linger, tho' a something threw 
A veil 'twixt me and this enchanting view ; 
When at my side stood Charity's fair form, 
Who pointed to a dreary cot, forlorn : 
With heavy heart, and step, I made my way, 
Lifted the latch of this abode of clay, 
The lattice introduced a slanting gleam, 
To paint more faithfully the piteous scene; 
A pallet fitted to the chamber bore 
A paralytic cloth'd in acrid sore ; 
Just shrinking back, I caught the languid eye 
Which spoke a soul absorb'd in ecstacy— 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 21 

" For ten long rolling years this flick'ring light, 

" Has just distinguish' d day from dreary night, 

" As the faint ray would o'er my chamber creep, 

" My wearied eyes but follow'd it to weep, 

" Yet on my guest, accustom'd to depend, 

" When clouded o'er, I felt to lose a friend, 

" My moanings and my murm'rings fill'd this cell, ) 

" Without one ray of hope ! ah ! who could tell, > 

" Or dare describe my state, save one from hell. J 

" Thanks be to God, probation was not past, 

" A look of love upon the foe He cast, 

" So instantaneous that each membrane thrill'd, 

" My heart and tongue with joy and praise were fill'd; 

" Worn almost out with curses, and despair, 

" I seem'd renew'd in gratitude, and prayer ; 

" This paralytic shell was now forgot, 

" I even gloried in my once sad lot, 

" Th' irrevocable curse I felt was true, 

" A truth the God of my salvation knew, 

" But he who spake the curse, the promise gave, 

" Thus cheerfully I seek it thro' the grave; 

" For I have heard the still small voice above, 

" ' I chasten only those I truly love.' 

" As round the prison house the props decrease, 

" The captive gains a glimpse of his release ; 

" The leanest soils produce the richest wines, 

" So grace will flourish best when nature pines ; 



22 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

" I can receive from man, nor honour, praise, 

" Those deadliest weapons Satan dares to raise ; 

" All, all below, so dreary is to me, 

" Mine eyes are fix'd upon eternity ; 

" If then my spirit's kept in tranquil ease, 

" 'Tis that its foe is cover'd with disease ; 

" The world may mock, or call it what they may, 

" They cannot give, nor take this peace away." 

As from the dying saint I then withdrew, 

The sun methought had shed a difF'rent hue ; 

I felt more peace and perfect pleasure there, 

Than reviling in the soft and balmy air ; 

And why ? my soul was elevated thence, 

And refted from delusion, self and sense. 

While poets give their graven idols name, 

O'er airy nothings breathe a classic fame, 

Can I withhold poor Rouge's ? or despise 

One writ as with a sunbeam on the skies ? 

Heav'n waited not the end, but even here -\ 

Own'd him a friend ; how many come to sneer, / 

Have dropt, on leaving, the repentant tear ! J 

These glorious truths the saint will still unfold, 

Tho' this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue's grown 

cold; 
The hand that sweeps the lyre may rest in peace, 
Ere from the chords their plaintive murm'rings cease, 
Touch'd but in faith and love, behold them rise, 
And leave their soft vibrations on the skies. 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 



CANTO II. 

Before our Bernoise cottage window stood, 
A lofty chain of Alpine solitude, 
Looking alike on nature and on time, 
Grand to the eye, and to the soul sublime ; 
Now Phoebus entered on his day's career, 
Chases away the vestal virgin's tear, 
And o'er th' eternal pyramid of snows, 
His warmth and sparkling brilliancy bestows ; 
The gay and sombre aspect of the maid, 
Portrays the contrast 'twixt the light and shade, 
On one side basking in the rosy east, 
Deck' and bespangled for a nuptial feast, 
While that declining to the gloomy west, 
Is by dark winter's chilling frown caress' d ; 
Now many a vap'ry cloud is seen to rise, 
And lift the snowy summits to the skies, 
Just intercepting here and there the scene, 
Throwing the mountains back and far between ; 
Soon as the sun has reach 'd meridian height, 
No cloud remains, around is azure bright, 



24 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

The Jung-frau with her courtiers by her side, 
Stands 'neath her canopy in conscious pride ; 
But the warm tinge thrown o'er the snowy lines, 
Who can depict it as yon orb declines ? 
Ah ! can I e'er forget that crimson hue, 
That look responsive on the last adieu ! 
The chilling moon took up the wondrous tale, 
And turn'd the rosy smile to deadly pale ; 
Claude would have cast his pencil idly by, 
And gaz'd upon the landscape with a sigh. 
The winding Aar now thro' the ravine glides, 
Then plunging headlong, ope's her yawning sides, 
Sublimely cloth' d with interwoven groves, 
Concealing now and then the path she roves ; 
The Bernoise costume decks the smiling mead, 
While making hay, or driving herds to feed, 
And cow bells tinkling as they move along, 
Cheer' by the wild notes of the peasant's song, 
Be-echo back from mountain to the dale, 
Till sunk in slumber on the whisp'ring gale. 
With sympathy of souls a scene like this, 
A foretaste may be term'd of perfect bliss, 
Not sympathies that grace the poet's lay, 
These, with their fragile cause soon fade away, 
But which ere earth was form'd had sweetly rung } 
Thro' boundless space, as one eternal tongue — > 
Which was, which is, and ever will be sung. J 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 25 

Two souls united by a Father's hand, 



*3 



In sight of home, tho' on a foreign land, 

All works of nature they can call their own, 

For them they're made, for them the sun hath shone ; 

In fancy's stream dip deep your pen and try, 

To give one touch of this reality. 

Here what sublimity ! what softness there ! 

Ah ! is the task abandon' d in despair ? 

An humbling lesson to thy mortal mind, 

To what a narrow boundary confin'd ! 

Enlightened from above, our spirits roam, 

When most at large, approaching nearest home, 

Beyond this scenery they even soar, 

And hail fresh beauties never seen before. 

As snow capp'd Eiger rear'd its lofty head, 

From earth to heav'n we were by nature led, 

Then pictured to ourselves a Father here, 

Thro' Christ, the Son of Eighteousness, made clear ; 

Th' eternal snow portray'd the pure attire, 

Of love and glory round our heav'nly Sire, 

Which by the Son's invigorating beam, 

Flows thro' His pasture as a living stream, 

Rushing in mighty torrents and in haste, 

Without appearance of decrease or waste ; 

Where'er it flows, whatever bank it laves, 

Nature's renew' d and with exub 'ranee waves. 

Dark clouds of unbelief may often rise, 

And hide a Father from our searching eyes, 



A i 



26 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Envelop'd oft in thick and doubtful mists, 
We yet meet daily proofs that He exists, 
For at our feet there runs a trickling rill, 
To prove God's attribute remaineth still ; 
Tho' He withdraw awhile, 'tis sweet to think, 
Where God unites, no pow'r can break the link, 
From Him then all must issue (dear the thought), 
So holy, pure, and costly, yet unbought ! 
Aught that arose in us could ne'er increase ; 
Just as the trembling pulse is nigh to cease, 
Could man bestow the dying Christian's peace, 
How many friends who pass'd our lov'd abode, 
Have only view'd the river as it flow'd, 
A dark impenetrable cloud conceal'd 
Those sources to our eyes so oft reveal'd ; 
Thus unbelievers see not as they rove, 
A Father's providence, a Saviour's love, 
They stand astounded at the wondrous frame, 
But the grand architect they blush to name ; 
Ah ! what unconscious glooms invest the scene, 
What dank and dark'ning vapours intervene 
Between them and the great, tho' hidden cause ; 
They cannot give to God the just applause. 

I love that country most where nature smiles, 
Where southern suns the short-liv'd day beguiles, 
Where citron flow'rs the ev'ning air embalm, 
While the rough ilex, and the drooping palm, 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 27 

Where dark carubia's richest evergreen, 

And broad-leav'd aloes, dress the wintry scene ; 

Geraniums, myrtle, and perennial rose, 

On either side the rambling paths enclose, 

With graceful vines festoon' d from tree to tree ; 

And feather'd songsters swell the harmony : 

All, all, declare our God, a God of Love, 

Save fallen man who hates to look above. 

Thy word my lamp, in ev'ry walk I trace 

Thro' nature's works the first great work of grace ; 

I see as yon bright orb his radiance flings, 

A risen Christ with healing in His wings, 

Alike their light and heat they scatter round, ^ 

Cherish alike the plant on goodly ground ; / 

And yet what multitudes are wither' d found ! J 

Christ's bride, the church, redounds, tho' faint, His 

praise, 
As the chaste moon reflects the solar rays; 
At first how imperceptible t' will seem, 
At most a small half circle, or a gleam, 
Yet swelling gradually each passing night, 
Tho' many a gloomy cloud may hide her light, 
At length grown perfect, having fill'd her horn, 
She waits to usher in the glorious dawn. 
Ah ! lovely emblem ! oft on thee I gaze, 
Comparing to thy course my fleeting days ; 
Dark unbelief and sin my light enshroud, 
Like thee, eclips'd by earth, or passing cloud, 

E 



28 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

And as with borrow'd rays you calmly shine. 
With gratitude I feel my light divine ; 
Thy course how sweetly clos'd on op'ning day, 
Thus may we each return our borrow'd ray. 
The raging waves impell'd by wind and storm, 
Depict our nature in the Adam form ; 
But the renew'd in Christ are said to be, 
Like to the tranquil and untroubled sea. 
On yonder olives, grafted in the wild, 
The parent sap runs freely thro' the child, 
Once doom'd to feed the all-consuming fire, 
It now exceeds the husbandman's desire ; 
Thus man, by nature, is to all around 
A fearful sight, a cumb'rer of the ground, 
But none can barren prove, or suffer blight, 
Whom God hath deign' d with Jesus to unite. 
Who that hath cross'd a desert will look back, 
With pleasure o'er his long unvaried track ; 
Nor can the worldling, tho' he dare assume 
False colours, to relieve his desert gloom. 
The garden ever forms a chief delight, 
Charming to sense and beautious to the sight ; 
What luscious fruits, and oh ! what varied hues, 
Eising on midnight air, their sweets diffuse, 
A vast variety ; yet all inhale 
Health and luxuriance from the southern gale— 
Shelter'd securely from the northern blast, 
From morn to eve, catch ev'ry ray that's cast. 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 29 

Tho' in a fallen world where all grows wild, 
Where ev'ry track by man has been defil'd, 
E'en in this wilderness is heard a voice, — 
" A remnant in the earth shall yet rejoice, 
" The crooked shall be straight, the rough ways plain, 
" And arid wastes refresh'd by genial rain; 
" The Spirit's quick'ning breeze shall constant play, 
" The gospel Sun shall ne'er withhold its ray, 
" The sterile tree shall fruit and blossom bear, 
" And perfumes shall be mingled with the air; 
" Jehovah 'tis that guards his chosen ground, 
" That nought unholy or unclean be found." 
The sun obliquely sheds its feeble beam, 
The frost has tranquilliz'd the brawling stream, 
The hardiest rose has droop 'd its blushing head, 
And the last spark of life from nature's fled ; 
Vain blows rude Boreas forth his icy breath, 
For all is wrapt unconsciously in death. 
But when exhilirating spring comes forth, 
And Phoebus smiles upon the frowning north, 
The quicken' d earth refresh'd by genial show'rs, 
Is cloth'd in verdure, blossoms, and with flow'rs; 
The summer solstice swells the fruit and grain, 
And Ceres smiles upon a waving plain, 
While he who had in care and sorrow sown, 
Secures the grateful produce as his own. 
Th' immortal spirit rests in death profound ; 
The law's alarming curses may resound, 



30 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Or love's sweet voice may whisper in its ear; 

Unmov'd it lies ! it cannot see nor hear ! 

But when Jehovah calls, " arise, awake," 

The dried and shrivell'd bones begin to shake, 

The first awak'ning glance brings shame and dread, 

That he had lain surrounded by the dead. 

Quick, quick, he hurries from sepulchral gloom, 

And siezes gratefully the proffer'd boon ; 

Soon he reflects the beauty of his Lord, 

And plenteous fruit he bears as his reward, 

Till nature sinks, then like a shock of corn, 

Into the garner he is safely borne, 

And He who on the Cross " 'tis finished " cried, 

Sees His soul's travail, and is satisfied. 

What moral lessons fancy's child may learn 
From splendid ruins, and the storied urn ; 
Here vanity is stamp' d on time and sense, 
And truth exposes fiction's false pretence : 
Once Nineveh bore terror with her name, 
Now swept from earth, is only known by fame, 
The trav'ller passing on in fear and haste, 
By instinct, cries, " see Nineveh's laid waste ;" 
Great Babylon is fallen, fallen low ! -j 

'Twixt her proud bulwarks did Euphrates flow, 
Now reeds and rushes in a desert grow ; J 

No Arab tent is seen, nor shepherd there, 
But satyrs dance, and dragons make their lair. 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 31 

Learning and science, rising to their height, 

Spread throughout all the world a classic light ; 

Now the high sculp tur'd frieze deserted lies, 

And points to Athens for our sympathies. 

Imperial Rome once issued, thro' her gates, 

Mandates to all the universe — her states ; 

Now midst a marsh in silence doth confess 

Herself at best, " a marble wilderness !" 

True, " Heav'n and earth may moulder to decay, 

" But not a word of Mine shall pass away. 

" Soon Zion's jasper walls shall burst on sight, 

" Freed from time's ravage, or the gloom of night." 

If yonder ruins cast a shaded gloom, 

How shall we leave the self-reflecting tomb ? 

If disappointment was depicted there, 

The mournful urn would fill us with despair ; 

If time, concealing with his sable wings 

Empires, and sumptuous palaces of kings, 

Cause solemn thoughts, a passing sigh or tear, 

What must this dust immortal sleeping here ! 

The prophet's curse we see on empires lie ; 

Is this illusion, or reality *? 

Now o'er these ashes let us contemplate — 

Hark! conscience speaks, " what would have been 

my fate?" 
With them 'tis ever clos'd, their die is cast, 
For as they fell, they must arise at last ; 



32 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

If in the book of life they are not found, 
Fame's brittle trumpet will in vain resound. 
Ye, who on earth have call'd great Baal, Lord, 
Dust then receive, it is your just reward, 
"Won in the schools, the battle, or the race, 
Tho ? honor'd once, will clothe you with disgrace ; 
Sought with such eagerness at Baal's shrine, ^ 

How soon 'twas wrested by the hand of time, > 
But not ere it had stamp'd upon you — crime. j 
While the poor humble fishermen we see, 
(Known scarcely on their lake of Galilee), 
Call'd by their God, instructed from above, 
Throughout the sphere resounds their work of love. 
Where is Diana, goddess of the world ? 
Now, with her followers, to oblivion hurl'd ; 
While through the universe is sought and priz'd, 
Th' epistle written to a few despis'd : 
'Tis not my wish to stigmatize the brave, 
Fain would I cast a crown upon his grave, 
But grieve lest he ascend, and leave behind, 
His honours, to a fleeting, fickle wind ; 
When in the name of Christ, a trifle giv'n, 
Follows the donor to the gates of Heav'n. 

The great Jehovah by His prophet cries, 
" Lo ! Cyrus, mine anointed shall arise, 
" Him have I girded, and my ways have shewn, 
" And yet by him, I never shall be known ;' 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITV. 33 

This chosen conqueror, at ev'ry breath 

Wafted sweet freedom, or the blast of death : 

What joy and splendour grac'd Belshazzar's feast ! 

But the loud harps' vibration scarcely ceas'd, 

When this anointed Persian rung the knell, 

And great Belshazzar with his empire fell ; 

The warlike sounds which rent the midnight air, 

And filled Assyria's tyrant with despair, 

Play'd sweetly o'er the Jewish captive's ears, 

" Thy night is spent, thy long-wish'd morn appears." 

Soon as the Persian sceptre fully sway'd, 

And all paid homage, and her rights obey'd, 

Death breath'd upon the monarch as he flew, 

His place remain' d, bat him no longer knew. 

In pride and pow'r the second empire swell'd, 

And in her hand, each nation's freedom held, 

When on th' horizon's seen the Grecian's car, 

Proclaiming victory, both near and far ; 

E'en Afric, Asia, and Europe's shore, 

He saturated deep with human gore, 

The Grecian banneret throughout unfurl' d, 

And to time's with'ring grasp the Persian hurl'd, 

When having conquer'd all, he vainly cries 

That nought remains for further victories ; 

But self was never conquer'd, thus he died — 

The urn encloses all his pomp and pride ; 

Here earthly valour, grandeur, crime, and fame 

Are shadow'd forth in Alexander's name. 



34 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

How swift the minute hand its circuits run, 

Keeping as 'twere a journal for the sun, 

Which daily speeds his course, and soon appears, 

To close unconsciously revolving years. 

Years rolling onwards will complete an age, 

Which passes as a day in history's page ; 

The iron sceptre now the brass succeeds, 

And winged fame records fresh heroes' deeds : 

" I came, I saw, I conquer' d," Caesar cried, 

And " Pater patriae," the world replied ; 

But scarce that name could echo speak again, 

When lo ! his country triumphs o'er him slain. 

And what is still the spirit of the age, 

Doth visionary fame the soul engage ? 

The silly moth that in the candle lies, 

No lesson teaches to the next that flies ; 

False charms and vain delusions, Satan flings 

Athwart the eyes of heroes and of kings ; 

The butterfly that's chas'd by yonder child, 

Is of more value, and the sport less wild, 

Than his who dares to live on futile hope, 

Or seek his route thro' fancy's telescope. 

Dear reader, pause ! the dust on which you stand 

Once might have held a kingdom at command — 

Throughout the world, his deeds, a glorious theme ; 

But now forgot ! view'd only as a dream ! 

What ! as a dream ! oh no, it cannot be, 

Each deed bears on it immortality ; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY, 3.3 

The ev'ry act which grac'd his mortal bow'r, 
May weave in night-shade 'gainst that solemn hour, 
If self was all his aim, his wish'd applause, 
How dread th* effect which follows such a cause, 
Ah ! if this solemn truth in all sunk deep, 
Who would not flee for refuge ere he sleep ? 
The merchant, as the waning year grows old. 
His careful balance sheet proceeds t'unfold, 
Each item scrutinizes o'er and o'er, 
And gains experience from the year before. 
What is this solemn truth before mine eyes *? 
Of ten professing Christ, but five were wise ! 
Each had her lamp, each bore a virgin's name, 
And in the sight of man appeared the same; 
But when the night approach'd, the Lord drew near, 
Delusion could, alas ! no longer cheer, 
Profession's lamp which served so well at noon, 
Fail'd to disperse the fearful midnight gloom, 
They search'd for oil in vain, in vain they cried, 
Christ clos'd the door, " I know you not," replied ! 
Ah ! " know thy self, ""this first great lesson learn'd, 
Jehovah's love and wisdom are discern'd, 
Thy tongue will never wander from the theme, 
Nor eye be taken from the glorious scheme. 
Thy tried experience, pilgrim, let us hear, 
Say what can dry the heavy-laden's tear ; 
How can we traverse o'er so rough a road, 
x\nd safely reach at last our wish'd abode* 

F 



36 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

" When first the Spirit drew aside the veil, 

" And shew'd my hopes were false, my wisdom frail, 

" In wrath and fear I would the curtain close, 

" To rest as heretofore in dead repose ; 

" To precious perfect self in haste I flew, 

" But now I saw too well it would not do ; 

" Each subterfuge I sought, each scheme I tried, 

" But all were false, I found no place to hide ; 

" My conscience now arous'd, 'twere vain to calm, 

" My danger it expos' d, but brought no balm ; 

" When in despair I upwards cast a look, 

" Methought I there beheld an open book, 

" And in it read my name — believe and live, 

" Tho' criminal thou art, I will forgive. 

" Like the green oasis in deserts found, 

" So stood I with a wilderness around ; 

" For as the brilliant light about me play'd, 

" I heeded not the winding, treach'rous, glade ; 

" With joyous heart 1 glided on my way, ^ 

" Nor once suppos'd I could be led astray, > 

" Or that I bore about me, sinful clay ; J 

" But the eternal conflict soon began, 

" I had not learn'd the abject state of man, 

" Nor that pure holiness which e'er hath shone, 

" More bright than brilliants round Jehovah's 

throne ; 
" As the first impulse evidenc'd decrease, 
" My conduct seem'd a tissue of caprice ; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 37 

" The thought intruded that I went too far, 

" Or said too much — thus rose the civil war. 

" True, God in part had op'd my blinded eyes, 

" I saw, but knew not how to gain the prize ; 

" That there was such a gulf I ne'er supposed 

" 'TwixtGodand man, from what had been disclos'd. 

" To brother pilgrims my complaints I bore, 

" Their soft emollients sooth'd awhile my sore, 

" With joy, their views and tenets I embrac'd, 

" And from my bosom thought my sorrows chas'd. 

" My walk mark'd out, my doctrine pure and clear, 

" I fancied Christians would my acts revere; 

" Christ I rejoic'd in, as my light and guide, 

" To vaunt o'er fellow-man, but not to hide ; 

" Thus separating partly from the root, 

" Frail was the flow'r, and bitter was the fruit ; 

" Alas ! Satanic thoughts would now obtrude, 

" That I was better than the multitude ; 

" Then with presumptuous steps I march'd along, 

" With all I disagreed, pronounc'd them wrong ; 

" For charity, peace, joy, I'd vainly sigh, 

" But only saw them as they flutter'd by ; 

" The choicest chord was left as yet unstrung, 

" How then could Zion's melody be sung ? 

" Self caus'd the discord, blessings all were foil'd, 

" For self around each wish and pray'r had coil'd; 

u In acts of great denial, self was there, 

" Some earth-born wish e'en here had laid its snare ; 



38 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

" I never searched beneath the outer skin, 

" While grace, true living grace, lies deep within ; 

" What such an one had done I lov'd to ask, 

" But not the principle which urg'd the task; 

" If eloquent, high talented, profound, 

" Not if humility and love abound ; 

" The humble boon might wing to heav'n its way, 

"I felt no wish to cause it aught delay ; 

" In all my thoughts, in every thing I did, 

" On full examination, self lay hid ; 

" 'Twere vain to seek the Spirit's peace and joy, 

" When thus the balance droop'd with earth's alloy : 

" In fervent pray'r I bent the suppliant knee, 

" When lo ! an answer came, i If thou'lt be free, 

" Fly from thy self and man, as from the pest, 

" Believe My word, and leave to me the rest ; 

" Ne'er look within, expecting something pure, 

6 1 "Twill irritate the sore, but never cure ; 

" Begard thyself as thine inveterate foe, 

11 And search for sins, for they will only grow ; 

" Then thou wilt hide in Me, to self wilt die, 

" And view with joy the Gospel mystery ; 

" The Spirit, by experience, deigns to teach, 

" Thro' faith, it lies within the Christian's reach, 

" But faith, hope, charity, go hand in hand, 

Ci Nought can annul this well-compacted band ; 

" Oft mortal builders separate the three, 

" Destroying thus the perfect harmony; — 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 39 

" When man the Christian graces dares divide, 

" Enthusiasm springs, or hateful pride ; 

" All human theories are bound so close 

" With sin and woe.' I left the Gordian noose, 

" And looking up to Christ for daily food, 

" In pray'r and watchfulness my path pursued ; 

" The self-reflecting thought I crush' d on birth, 

' i And fled from praise and plaudits sprung from 

earth, 
" Still from the smould'ring fire the sparks would fly, 
" Reminding me the foe was ever nigh ; 
" Then turning to my God with inward shame, 
" Rejoic'd to offer Him the just acclaim." 
The pilgrim said no more, but bid adieu — 
Ere thanks return'd, he vanish'd from our view. 
Yea, even so, all Christian gifts descend, 
And not on self or argument depend ; 
Your mission give, ambassadors of heav'n, 
But mind how you outstep the limit giv'n, 
Or aught destroy the beauteous Gospel plan, 
By some false flattering, sophistry of man. 
As heralds then, the joyful news proclaim, 
Salvation's only found in Jesu's name ; 
All whom the Spirit gives the pow'r to cry, -j 

" Cleanse me from every fault or else I die " — > 
Conduct them to the paths of liberty. j 

The truth wants none of your persuasive pow'r — 
Faith, is it not the Spirit's special dow'r? 



40 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Ah ! if this holy radiance were not shed, 

None would believe tho' raised from the dead, 

The mazy doubt you still may render plain, 

Shew ev'ry link of the mysterious chain, 

How prophecy, when centuries had pass'd, 

Was to the letter perfected at last ; 

The thoughtless, or e'en atheist, you may move, 

But can you give a spark of heav'nly love ? 

Your energetic style may gain assent, 

But will it lead a sinner to repent ? 

Yea worse, mankind you grievously deceive, 

Attempting to persuade them to believe, 

Thus each will say, as I possess the will, 

I turn to God when sense has had her fill ; 

Or fancy 'tis compris'd within the creeds, 

When duly said without the aid of beads : 

While true believers from assurance fly, 

They look to self and deem it heresy ; 

Cry out aloud as John, repent ! repent ! 

To all who hear it 'tis from heav'nward sent, 

Give God the glory, who has deign' d th' increase, 

And thou shalt reap the fruits of joy and peace. 

Not by enticing words or flatt'ring speech 

Did Paul attempt God's mysteries to teach, 

Lest by his eloquence he might mislead, 

Or offer for support a broken reed ; 

But as a tube its limpid stream conveys, 

So he disclos'd the Spirit's quick'ning rays ; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 41 

Jehovah, who has searched the human heart, 
No work but self-abasement doth impart, 
Man, mortal man, must in the ashes lie, 
Cloth'd, as it were, in self-obscurity, 
But if conceal'd beneath the Saviour's wing, 
Without presumption he can meet his King : 
Think not the Christian indolently lives — 
'Gainst pow'rs and principalities he strives ; 
Still the strong fortress, to o'ercome its foe, 
Depends on the foundation laid below. 
The Christian's pilgrimage from first to last, 
Is in th' eternal dispensation cast; 
Tho' dark mysterious providences rise, 
Each wandering is ordained in the skies, 
To shew the need of covert 'gainst the storm, 
Lest found alone on the eternal dawn ; 
Thus Israel thro' the wilderness was led, 
And rebels prov'd, tho' they by heav'n were fed, 
That God's perfections they might partly scan, 
And the debased state of fallen man. 

The anchor weigh'd — when streamers gaily fly, 
And sails begin to swell, each breast beats high, 
Majestically moves the little world, 
Leaving behind a gentle ripple curl'd, 
The chalky cliffs receding as they pass, 
While all before them lies a sea of glass ; 
They swiftly through the yielding waters sweep, 
But little know the horrors of the deep, 



42 THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 

Nor ever think these salient, harmless waves, 
May open soon a thousand threatening graves : — 
Behold ! arising black and lowering clouds, 
And hollow winds that whistle through the shrouds ; 
" All hands on deck," the boatswain hoarsely cries, 
" All hands on deck," each sailor quick replies ; 
The stud-sails soon are lower'd, the yard-arms 

mann'd, 
The stiffen' d canvass reef the gallant band, 
Their hatchways close, in case they shipp'd a sea, 
While foaming breakers run along the lee ; 
The helmsman steady guides her rapid flight, 
Their only safeguard thro' the stormy night ; 
As morning dawns, all mount in eager haste, 
To view a turbulent and trackless waste, 
The vessel sinks, as mountain billows rise, 
Which falling round, uplift her to the skies. 
The once gay bark, but now a wreck forlorn, 
With shattered masts goes lab'ring 'fore the storm ; 
Their anxious eyes are on the magnet bent, 
As nightly stars bedeck the firmament; 
But morn discloses they are nearing fast 
The long wish'd haven — enter'd safe at last. 
The Christian on life's stormy ocean sails, 
Toss'd by the waves, and driven by the gales, 
Yet they can ne'er his vessel overwhelm ; 
The Word's his compass — Jesus at the helm ; 



THE PLEASURES OF REALITY. 43 

His course he keeps, nor looks for anch'rage ground, 
In foreign seas where danger's spread around. 

I close my song— nor pages further soil, 
By following more the Tempter's slimy coil ; 
If I but seldom cull'd a flowery spray, 
'Twas that I fear'd to linger on my way ; 
For if reality be kept in view, 
What terrene joys will shed a pleasing hue ? 
But truth will triumph when delusions shrink, 
And man stands tottering on the solemn brink. 
Oh ! precious truth ! I now rejoice to sing, 
" Grave, where's thy victory — and Death, thy sting?" 
Come thou grim tyrant, king of terrors, Death, 
Tho' I be wither' d by thy foetid breath; 
The curse must first reduce this flesh to dust, 
Ere I can claim the blessing of the just ; 
'Tis thou must free me from the base alloy, 
And cause my soul to enter on its joy — 
As this life's pilgrimage is drawing near, 
Thy gift, dear Lord, more perfect will appear, 
And when these eyes are clos'd, our motto will be | 
clear. 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
& Meberie. 



St. Matthew, xiii. 45, 46. 



[The site from whence this scene is supposed to be taken, is 
the Chi£sa St. Martino, situate on an eminence, behind the Chiaja 
at Naples.] 



Methought I stood upon a dizzy height, 
Tho' all was chaos, from the shades of night — 
No star proclaim'd her wide etherial sphere, 
Nor silvery moon-beam threw a lustre there ; 
Nought that mine eye had seen, nor ear had heard, 
No hum of man ! no warbling of the bird ! 
But from the summit of a mountain broke, 
With groans terrific, flame, huge stones and smoke, 
And liquid lava roll'd in headlong haste, 
Whose glare disclos'd a devastating waste, 
Thro' splendid ruins bent an heedless way, 
Then seem'd to smoulder in a crimson'd bay ! 
Methought I heard the Maker's voice resound, 
While vivid flashes darted all around ! ( 4 ) 
Unearthly was the scene, but yet I felt 
The spirit was encompass'd by the belt 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 45 

Of mortal sense, enshrouded in a tomb, 

Where ev'ry chink enlighten'd but the gloom, 

And ev'ry membrane trembled in suspense, 

As the dark vision pass'd from soul to sense : 

Like the last dying taper's quiv'ring flame, 

Which leaves, and then returns, then leaves again. 

With anxious gaze, below, around, above, 

I saw at length th' unvaried vapour move, 

The sombre curtain slowly was withdrawn, 

And pale blue streaks foretold the breaking dawn ; 

Aurora, with her fingers dipp'd in dew, ( 2 ) 

Heav'n's portal opes, whence streams of rosy hue 

Announce the chariot of the king of day, 

And dancing hours compose his bright array ; 

But ere th' horizon's climb' d, he dips and laves 

His first cast ray, in soft cerulean waves ; 

The hoary dew before him flies for shame, 

And into smoke is turn'd the raging flame. 

He, rising from the deep, salutes with smiles 

The far fam'd Capreae and her sister Isles ; 

These on the ocean lay like gems divine, 

As distant worlds thro' night's clos'd mantle shine. 

Round an indented bay there stretch 'd along 

Scenes, which awoke the muse in ancient song ; 

Here, Paestum's rose her monthly fragrance yields, 

There, dread Avernus, and Elysian fields, 

Th' enamell'd vale still cloth'd with varied flow'rs, 

And trellis'd vines recalling antique bow'rs ; ( 3 ) 



46 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

In gloom perennial, bay and cypress mourn 
The Mantuan bard (ah ! never to return !) 
Whose silver chords still vibrate o'er the scene, 
And leave this moral — life is but a dream ! ( 4 ) 
A sumptuous city stretch' d beneath my feet, 
Tho' nought was seen or heard along the street, 
Save here and there the tinkling convent bells, 
And the slow measur'd steps of sentinels : 
My ravish'd eye drank up th' enchanting view, 
Which to the soul with speed of lightning flew, 
The model was complete — yet what arose ? 
Dumb admiration ; but no calm repose — 
Faint, and distorted, is the clearest beam, 
Whose image floats upon a gurgling stream. 
As Phoebus glitter'd o'er the lofty domes, 
The busy crowds were hastening from their homes, 
To fill each vacant spot, and public way, 
T' allure the wise, the glutton, and the gay ; 
Now skulk' d the artist to his patron's door, 
Who, 'neath a thread-bare cloak his treasure bore ; 
Here genius cloth'd in rags is seen at noon, ( 5 ) 
As improvvissatore and buffoon, 
Content with grana for their gibes and lays, 
And lazzaroni's simple wreath of bays. 
Now sally forth, as lagger'd time proceeds, 
The liv'ried chariots with their prancing steeds, 
And the rich cortege from the palace gate, 
In all the brilliancy of regal state ; 



THE PEAUL OF PRICE. 47 

Soft music mingles with the balmy air, 

And nature as her Lord seems reft of care. ( 6 ) 

Methought a wish arose to join the throng, 

When lo ! I fancied some one pass'd along, 

Who spake, on drawing closely to my side, 

'-' Stand'st thou in need of monitor and guide?" 

" Ah ! yes," I quick replied, " ere since my youth, 

I've sought this grand solution — What is truth? 

Say — is not this fan scene a paradise, 

Where nature lends her aid to man's device ; 

The jocund sounds ascend upon the breeze, 

All seem content, look happy, and at ease?" 

" Ah ! sad delusions which the heart beguile ; 

For souls respond not to the outward smile, 

A deadly worm may revel deep within, 

Tho' rich vermilion beautify the skin. 

Myst'ry profound ! that the immortal soul 

To dust gives life, then bends to its control — 

Will hazard heav'n-born virtues — e'en degrade 

The clay it promis'd a superior aid. 

In earth's uncultivated state, 'tis true 

But noxious w r eeds, and thorns, and briars grew, 

Yet when it fell beneath a fost'ring hand, 

The choicest fruits arose at the command. 

But education never gave to man 

His Maker's will and ways, the pow'r to scan ; 

Oh ! no, it leads him in a difFrent train, 

To fortune, pleasure, or at best to fame — 



48 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

Thro' paths of science where blind reason trod, 
At each progressive step was heard — no God ; ( T ) 
Where wisdom's lonely lamp illumes the mind, 
Self and her projects are but more refin'd; 
Tho' bold the scheme, it is in error cast, 
And dark confusion crowns the work at last. 
Can proud philosophy presume to teach, 
What lies alone within the Christian's reach — 
Where place the lever to remove the load 
Of fear, when death encircles his abode ? 
A quagmire's found, the lever quick applied, 
'Tis sunk ! thus closes philosophic pride. 
But once the mind's enlighten'd from on high, 
It bursts deceit, nor rests upon a lie ; 
And mounting on fair truth's aspiring wings, 
Traces the glory to the King of kings. 

On pleasure's threshold, Philalethes, pause, 
Taste not th' effect ere you have trac'd the cause ; 
If from mortality thy hopes arise, 
The wish'd-for flow'r no sooner blooms than dies, 
The fav'rite joy at eventide is flown, 
And leaves the soul in bitterness to moan ; 
Not transient sorrow, for its venom's there, ( 8 ) 
Corroding deep the spirit with despair — 
A respite yet remains for those who weep, 
Thro' the soul's anguish, sense is lost in sleep ; 
Or where the madd'ning passions bear the rule, 
In slumber they may slake, but never cool — 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 49 

The soft restorer of the mortal pow'rs, 
But feeds the worm, who ev'ry hope devours ; 
For as the sense at morning dawn awakes, 
Then on the sight the scene more fearful breaks ; 
But when the soul has burst the mortal shell, 
The pain's untold ! unceasing ! this is hell ! ( 9 ) 
As each feels conscious of his wretchedness, 
Each thinks his neighbour doth the pearl pos- 
sess : ( 10 ) 
Then with fresh ardour changes his pursuit, 
But still the soil produces bitter fruit. 
Go, flatterer go ! Sicilia's tyrant said, 
And place my royal crown upon thy head, 
My honours, luxuries, and pleasures share — 
But ah ! that sword suspended by a hair ! 
He cast a glance upon the naked blade, 
And shudd'ring sought his discontented shade. 
But why, Fortuna cries, disturb repose, 
And foolishly anticipate thy woes ? 
Thousands have pass'd their threescore years and ten. 
In fortune's favour' d lap ; 'tis true — but then 
Eternity begins, and all before 
Are waves and breakers on a barren shore ; 
Hark, hark, yon occupation speaks aloud, 
" How swift the shuttle flies that weaves thy shroud." 

A beauteous Queen the envy of mankind, 
Beneath a spangled canopy reclin'd, 



50 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

Down Cydnus stream the galley floats along, 
And silver'd oars beat time to flute and song. 
The fires of perfume mingle with the gales, 
And gently swell the silken purple sails, 
'Midst smiles and flatteries she sweeps the wave, 
And gains her object — Anthony her slave — 
The wish accomplish" d clos'd her destinies ; 
Fair Cleopatra seeks an asp, and dies ! 
That giddy circle which we calmly view, 
Would almost prove these sentiments untrue, 
Yet those bewitching smiles and gay parade, 
Are nothing more than moving masquerade ; 
If discontent excites that motley band, 
The royal sceptre trembles in the hand, 
The fawning courtier plays the double part, 
Intrigue and int'rest barricades the heart, 
'Tis to the crown the sycophant will bend, 
While he who wears it cannot boast a friend. 
Love's genial warmth is neither felt nor known, 
'Twixt him who kneels before, and he who mounts 
the throne. 
All, all is vanity, the wise man cried, 
(And who'd assert what Solomon deny'd '?) 
My heart's desire was granted ere it burn'd, 
And that was mine on which these eyes had turn'd ; 
Yet when I look'd on all that I had done, 
No profit, I exclaim'd, beneath the sun. 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 51 

How speeds the solemn hour, when each will say 
" There is no sun or moon to cheer my way." 
The grinders cease, because they are but few, (H) 
Those at the windows gaze but vainly through, 
The keepers of the house, all trembling, bow, 
The doors are shut because the grinding' s low, 
Fears are in ev'ry way, desires are flown, 
Because man goeth to his long last home ; 
The silver cord is loos'd ! the farewell tok'n, 
And man's false pride ! the golden bowl is brok'n. 
Then shall the dust again return to earth ; 
The spirit unto him who gave it birth. 

Think not, my friend, that I would dare presume, 
To throw o'er bounteous Providence a gloom ; 
Satanic thought ! Oh no, 'tis my design 
To shew that all was perfect, all divine; 
Yea, God pronounc'd it good. Ah ! sad reverse, 
'Twas man's foul disobedience brought the curse ; 
'Twas man, fall'n sinful man, whose foetid breath, 
Blew o'er the choicest flow'rs the seeds of death. 
A tainted vase destroys the purest wine — 
Then cleanse the vessel, or the fault is thine : 
That thou art foul is all I wish to prove, 
Not that our God is not a God of love. 
Deep in earth's bowels precious stones are found, 
The idle gazer looks in vain around, 
The wealthy spot might even call his own, 

H 



52 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

While he is poor, despis'd, and little known ; 

So to the carnal eye there lies conceal'd 

That pearl which heav'n's bright torch alone reveal'd, 

Within the grasp of all, yea, all that live, 

If but the seeing eye the Spirit give. 

View yonder shatter'd bark just enter'd port, (*2) 
Of waves and wild Euroclydon the sport ; 
Down the ship sides an armed band descends, 
And under heavy chains a captive bends ; 
His ev'ry word, each gesture, and his eye, 
Beam innocence, joy, peace, benignity. 
Rising to transport as his woes increase, 
Thus stands the legate of the prince of peace — 
And this was persecuting Saul ! whose breath 
Consented to the martyr' d Stephen's death ! 
Who, 'gainst the Church of God with frenzied zeal, 
Towards Damascus hasten' d to appeal ; 
When suddenly from heav'n a light shone round, (*3) 
And ardent Saul was smitten to the ground ; 
He saw the Saviour, and he heard the call, 
" Arise, thou art My chosen vessel — Paul ;" 
A living coal the Spirit's pow'r conveys, 
Touches his lips, and now, " Behold he prays !" 
The grand phenomena in earth and skies, 
Absorb the sage in wonder and surprise, 
But all beside must bear a minor part, 
When view'd the change perform'd upon the heart ; 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 53 

Christ speaks the word, and worlds on worlds arise. 
But in this work He bows His head and dies — 
Beform, reform, is heard as life ebbs fast, 
To soothe man's conscience for his actions past ; 
Th' unwilling slave relies upon his deeds, 
Leaves legacies — self tortures — counts his beads ; 
Each sect its difTrent penances may claim, 
Still human nature will be found the same. 
The anxious youth, eternal life would buy, 
But he was rich ! and deenrd the price too high ; 
Yet conscious that his wealth would not allay 
His troubled breast, he, sorrowing, turn'd away ; 
Had he the value of the pearl but known, 
He all had risk'd, t' have called that pearl his own. 
Yea, the new principle is wrought on high, 
All else is false — deceit — hypocrisy ; 
Not e'en the brightest gems so much surpass, 
The basest counterfeits of paste or glass — 
Ah ! what a vista's open'd into heaven, 
When one feels lost — yet all his sins forgiven ! 
When Satan's treach'rous mask is seen to fall, 
Self lies debas'd, and Christ is all in all — 
Now bursts the gloomy tenement of clay, 
Oppos'd to the mysterious burning ray ; 
Th' imprison'd dormant soul revives, and sees 
Eternity thro' paths of promises- 
While slept the patriarch on the chos'n stone, 
A bright refulgence o'er his spirit shone ; 



54 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

Poor frail mortality no sooner rests, 

Than heav'n's wing'dmessengers compose his guests ; 

Mortality subdued, pure joys arise, 

Vexations cease, and disappointment dies, 

Life's dark vicissitudes that spread dismay, 

Hurry the tardy traveller on his way ; 

Tho' yonder mast may bend beneath the breeze, 

Ingulf d in waves, then bounding o'er the seas, 

Those raging winds which cause the billowy roar, 

Impel the vessel to the wish'd-for shore ; 

The mariner looks on, secure>and calm, 

Trusts to his compass, and dispels alarm. — 

As once from Horeb's rock the waters burst, 

And follow'd Israel to assuage their thirst ; 

So Zion's pilgrims all their journey through, 

Are quench'd by streams unchang'd in taste or hue; 

A paradise is found in deserts wild, 

If but the Sun of Righteousness hath smil'd. 

Ah Christian ! here thy privilege is great, 

Thou know'st a Father regulates thy fate, 

Thou know'st the mind's dark ocean fraught with ill, 

Is calm'd at His command — Peace, peace — be still ; 

Thou know'st when turbid passions dare to rise, 

One look on Him, and ev'ry passion dies ; 

When hoarsely howls the wild tempestuous gale, 

Thine anchor's cast on faith within the vail ; 

Tho' base ingratitude may cross thy path, 

And thy forgiveness but engender wrath, 



THE PEARL OF PRICE. 55 

Still flow'rs celestial spread thy pathway o'er, 

And mark the same thy Saviour went before ; 

When friendship proves but treacherous device, 

With joy is hail'd the precious Pearl of Price ; 

Yea, fearful martyrdom may be caress'd, 

It closes ev'ry woe and stills the throbbing breast ; 

When thus united to the living root, 

The branch produces blossoms, flow'r, and fruit ; 

Baptiz'd into the image of his Lord, 

He shares His joys, His honours, and reward; 

With Him ! and like Him ! thro' eternity ! — ^ 

Past comprehension ! — " thou indeed shalt die/' > 

But the dire curse unfolds His charity ! J 

'Twas on the day of rest — when first the sun (14) 

On Adam rose — creation's work is done ; 

Perfection is impress'd on all around, 

Through ev'ry sense the shouts of praise redound— 

The glowing rays the tender tint illume, 

From ev'ry flow'r exhales a sweet perfume, 

Mellow'd the bursting vine, enrich'd the soil, 

No human art was needed, nor its toil — 

E'en music issued from the wild beast's roar, 

And foaming waves that dash'd upon the shore, 

The feather'd songster's caroll'd forth their lays, 

Mountain and valley swell'd the hymn of praise, 

And man, the glorious image of his God, 

Reflected love at every step he trod — 



56 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 

All, all by heav'n were taught to harmonize, (*5) 
And the grand chorus rose upon the skies ; 
But yet how faint these emblems all portray, 
Christ the eternal sun, and that millennial day. 
My conscious soul felt sunk in deep despair, 
The quiv'ring lips were mov'd in earnest pray'r ; 
When clouds dispers'd, and love's soft radiance 

shone 
O'er One who sat upon an emerald throne, 
Whosevoiceproclaim'd, "ye troubled and distress'd," 
" Come unto me, and I will give you rest." 
No more pour'd forth her plaints, my stamm'ring 

tongue, 
But join'd the song which saints and angels sung. 

The western ocean now appear'd to blaze, 
As Phoebus cast his long- departing rays ; 
Like the bright eye of heav'n they pierced through 
Earth's bounds, and laid eternity to view — 
Isles started up as far as eye could reach, 
And luscious fruits and flow'rs bedeck'd their beach, 
Bath'd by the dark blue sea, whose curling wave, 
Through evening's calm a gentle murmur gave ; 
Celestial beings flitted to and fro, 
'Mid the soft atmosphere, whose vivid glow 
Spread o'er the scene, what tongue could ne'er 

express ; 
But all before now seemed a wilderness. 



57 



The sun had set — my monitor had flown ; 
I woke — 'twas all a dream ! and I alone. 
At first I thought it Satan's dark device, 
To paint in fancy's stream a Paradise ; 
But no — I found, in truth, the Pearl of Price, 



NOTES. 



(1) What vivid flashes darted all around. 

So highly electric is the vapour of volcanoes, that it has 
been observed in some eruptions, both of Etna and Ve- 
suvius, that the whole track of smoke which sometimes 
extended for upwards of an hundred miles, produced the 
most dreadful effects, killing shepherds and flocks in the 
mountains, blasting trees and setting fire to houses where- 
ever it met with them on an elevated situation. — Brydoneh 
Tour in Italy, J*c. 

(2) Aurora with her fingers dipped in dew, fyc. 

My description is borrowed from the celebrated Fresco 
painting of Guido (commonly called Guido's Aurora), in 
the Palazzo Rospigliosi, at Rome. 

(3) " Recalling antique bowers" 

L. Fulvius cum corona rosacea interdiu e pergula sua 
in forum prospexisse dictus. — Plin. Perfecta opera Apel- 
les proponebat in pergula transcuntibus. —Plin. In per- 
gula docuit. — Suet. Bowers, in Italy, are not merely ar- 
bours, but long covered ways, under which you may 
traverse the whole country, shaded from the burning rays 
of the sun, and refreshed by cooling breezes, as a current 
of air is drawn through them ; the broad leafed fig tree 
lends its aid to the work, and its fruit, with that of the 
vine, render these agreeable retreats peculiarly refreshing. 



58 NOTES. 

(4) And leave this moral — life is but a dream ! 

Pozzuoli, Cuma, Micenum, and Baiae, comprise innu- 
merable monuments of Roman magnificence, but alas ! 
how are the mighty fallen. This delightful coast that was 
once the garden of all Italy, and inhabited only by the 
rich, the gay, and luxurious, is now abandoned to the 
poorest and most miserable of mortals ; perhaps there is 
no spot on the globe that has undergone so perfect a 
change, or that can exhibit so striking a picture of the 
vanity of human grandeur; those very walls that once 
lodged a Caesar, a Lucullus, an Anthony, the richest and 
most voluptuous of mankind, are now occupied by the 
very meanest and most indigent wretches on earth, 
who are actually starving for want in those apartments 
that were the scenes of the most unheard-of luxury, 
where we are told that suppers were frequently given that 
cost fifty thousand pounds, and some that even amounted 
to double that sum — the luxury of Baiae was so great that 
it even became a Proverb : Clodius throws it in Cicero's 
teeth ; and that Orator having purchased a villa here, hurt 
him not a little in the opinion of the more austere parf, of 
the senate. — Brydone. 

(5) Here genius clothed in rags is seen at noon. 

The 7th Eclogue of Virgil, as the 3rd before, seems to be 
an imitation of a custom among the shepherds of old 
of vying together in extempore verse ; at least 'tis very 
like the Improvisatori verse at present in Italy : they are 
surprisingly ready in their answers (respondere parati), and 
go on octave for octave, or speech for speech alternately 
(alternis dicetis amant alterna camenae); at Florence there 
were Improviso Comedies. There were Improvisatori of 
this kind of old, for before Livius Andronicus endeavoured 
to make any thing of a regular play, Compositum temere 
ac molem alternis jaciebant. — Livy. 

(6) And nature, as her Lord, seems 'reft of care. 

Naples was a town of indolence and pleasure, and was 
therefore, as some suppose, said to have been founded by 



NOTES. 59 

Parthenope, one of the Syrens, who were Goddesses of in- 
dolence and pleasure. 

Improba Siren. 

Desidia. 

Otiosa Neapolis.— Hor. 

(7) At each progressive step was heard — no God. 

The fool hath said in his heart — no God (Ps. xiv. 1.) 
" there is" is an interpolation — thus it is not the mere as- 
sumption that there is no God, but every thought and ac- 
tion of unrenewed man is stamped with the motto " no God." 

(8) Not transient sorroiv, for its venom 's there. 

Plato conceived that every passion which had been con- 
tracted by the soul during her residence in the body, re- 
mained with it in the separate state, and that if nourished 
and fed during youth, would survive in the mind when 
altogether dead in the body ; nay, that the desires grow 
more violent, and like all other habits, gather strength l)y 
age ; at the same time that it has no power of executing 
its own purposes ; if, therefore, the soul is the most sub- 
ject to these passions, at the time when it has the least 
instigations from the body, we may well suppose it will 
still retain them when it is entirely divested of it The 
very substance of the soul is fastened with them — the 
gangrene is gone too far to be ever cured — the inflamma- 
tion will rage to all eternity. 

(9) This is hell. 

It is the opinion of some judicious expositors that the 
word TapTapwo-a?, used by St. Peter (2 Pet. ii. 4.), and ren- 
dered hell by our translators, does not signify hell pro- 
perly, but the lower region of the air ; because, say they, 
it is certain the word Taprapos is frequently so used by the 
Greek writers. Tartarus, says Phavorinus, is the subter- 
restrial air, where the sun comes not: it signifies also, 
says Suidas, " the place in the clouds or in the air:" hence 
Taprapov tiepoevTa, and 'Cocpov nepoevra, in Homer, to intimate 
that Tartarus was " the dark air," as Crates, in Stephanus, 

I 



60 NOTES. 

says : Hades is a dark place under the earth — says Por- 
phyry, where souls are tormented in utter darkness. What 
I would therefore denote Hell, is not any particular place 
of torment, but the situation in which an unrenewed spirit 
is found immediately upon leaving the flesh. 

(10) Each thinks his neighbour doth the pearl possess. 
Qui fit Moecenas, &c. &c— Hon. Sat. 1. Lib. 1. 

(11) The grinders cease because they are but Jew. 

The keepers of the house denote the hands becoming- 
paralytic, as is usual in old age ; the strong men, the legs 
becoming feeble, and unable to support the body ; the 
grinders, &c, the teeth decayed, and mostly lost; those 
that look out of the windows, the optic nerves darkened, 
in consequence of the humours, &c. ; the doors shall be 
shut, &c, the teeth being lost the mouth is more closed ; 
all the daughters of music, the voice and ear are incapa- 
ble of performing their offices ; the almond tree in flower, 
says Hasselquist, is like an old man with white locks ; 
by the silver cord is meant the spinal marrow, so called 
from its form and colour; by the golden bowl, the brain ; 
by the pitcher, the vena cava, which brings back the blood 
into the left ventricle of the heart, called the fountain ; 
and by the wheels, the great aorta which receives the blood 
from the cistern, the right ventricle of the heart. 

(12) View yonder shattered bark just entered port. 

St. Paul landed at Puteoli, now called Pozzuoli, an 
ancient sea port of Campania, about 8 miles S.W. of 
Naples, standing on a hill in a creek opposite to Baiae, &c. 

(13) When suddenly from heav'n a light shone round. 

It is a remarkable fact that the conversion of St. Paul 
is related no less than three times in holy writ ; and the 
Apostle is continually reverting to it, and pointing out 
the difference between the highest pitch of natural mo- 
rality, and that emanating from God — as an Hebrew of 
the Hebrews, and as touching the law a Pharisee, his 



NOTES. ' 61 

morality was formal, and his love lifeless ; but when the 
Holy Spirit had worked upon his heart the great change, 
he then indeed stands upon vantage ground, and explains 
to his Corinthian converts, in the 13th chapter of his 1st 
epistle, the life of those regenerated by the Spirit of God. 
Unless a man be born again, our Lord himself says, he 
cannot see the kingdom of God. Satan is too subtle to 
contradict so plain a statement ; but he distorts it : this 
truth is therefore explained away in Christian churches 
by baptism. Without entering into controversy upon so 
abstruse a subject, I would merely state that all who are 
baptized are not saved, to wit, Ananias and Sapphira, 
and likewise Simon Magus and most probably Judas 
Iscariot ; and on the other hand the thief on the cross 
had not been baptized; therefore the new birth must 
be apart from baptism, though the latter should neces- 
sarily follow, or not be left undone. Had the new birth 
been given at baptism, as a natural consequence, St. Paul 
could not have expressed himself as he has done. — Vide 
1 Cor. i. 14. 1 Cor.iv. 15. 

(14) 'Twas on the day of rest, fyc. 

It is the opinion of some that the six days of creation 
prefigured 6000 years, and the day of rest, Christ's reign 
on earth ; that as the sun was created on the 4th day, but 
did not appear to rise over the eastern gates of Paradise 
till the 7th, inasmuch as Adam was created only on the 
6th ; so the great Antitype became incarnate at the close 
of the 4th millennium, but will not appear to reign on 
earth till the commencement of the 7th. 

(15) All, all by heart n, were taught to harmonize. 

Nature represents the mysteries of true religion, which 
would be sufficient to prove its authenticity, in contradis- 
tinction to that of the surrounding impostures ; for if the 
hidden mysteries are found inclosed in the fold of the 
visible creation, who would be the originator of that re- 
ligion but the Creator himself ? viz., the sun an emblem 
of Christ ; the moon, the church, &c, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 



THE KING OF KINGS HAS SAID TO HIS PEOPLE, 

" Peace 1 leave with you, my peace I give unto you : not as the 
world giveth, give I unto you"— St. John xiv. 27. 



Cranslatetr from tje tfttntfy 



DEDICATION. 

Edward was my companion at college,— the same studies, 
tastes, and habits, united us closely to each other ; and it 
was with the greatest sorrow that I saw this beloved friend 
return to his native country, and part from me, perhaps 
for ever in this world. Our letters for some years softened 
the bitterness of this separation ; but when the opprobrium 
of the cross of Christ became my happy lot, even Edward 
appeared ashamed of me. Alas ! his mind, blinded by 
prejudice, yielded without examination to the opinion of 
those whom we had ever honoured as our masters, whose 
censure was at that time cast upon the faith which I 
professed, and which by their wisdom was termed folly. 
Years have elapsed; but I have never more heard Ed- 
ward's voice, and mine has but seldom reached him ; still 
eternity is approaching, and more than one solemn warn- 
ing from God has told us both that ere long we must 



DEDICATION. 63 

leave our dwellings, our interests, and our bodies of death, 
to appear before the judgment-seat of the Son of man, 
and there give an account of those talents which God has 
intrusted to us during the time of our pilgrimage. 

u Does Edward, my dear Edward," have I often said to 
myself, " know the way of peace, and is his soul advancing 
%vitb assurance towards the day of final recompence ?" I 
know that this soul, anxious for its eternal salvation, and 
professing to have submitted to the word of God, was 
seeking rest ; but I also feared that it still sought it from 
the wise men of the earth, and this thought weighed so 
heavily on my heart, that I could not avoid making it 
known to my old friend, and asking him affection ately in 
this song, " Edward, do you possess the peace of God ?" 
also adding, " it is in Christ we must find it." Perhaps 
there may be elsewhere another Edward desirous of rest ; 
but who is also still seeking it in the world, by the delu- 
sive light of man's reason. It is to this " unknown Ed- 
ward " that I address and dedicate this Song of Peace 3 
beseeching the Creator of our souls, who knows each of 
his dear children, to accompany my voice with that bless- 
ing, without which the mouth speaks and the ear hear^ 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 



Now, even now, dear friend, the voice of youth 

Speaks, as she flies, a lamentable truth ! 

Soon we discover in our narrow way, 

The lengthen'd gleam of fast declining day ; 

Once past, 'tis gone ! it can return no more ! 

A murm'ring wave, which breaks upon the shore, 

A midnight taper, vanish' d ere the dawn — 

A skiff upon the stream, how swiftly borne ! 

A wither'd flow'r, once beauteously array'd, 

A sigh, a vapour, or the passing shade. 

The gloomy vale unseen is ever nigh ! 
Life's path runs bord'ring on eternity : 
That moment which has clos'd the wild career, 
Ushers the soul within th' eternal sphere ; 
The step, wide falling of the narrow sod, 
Ne'er rests until it stands before its God ! 

Ah ! solemn thought ! my spirit hence is flown, 
And in Thy awful presence found alone ! 
Surrounded by Thy bright and searching ray, 
What, worthless as I am, could be my stay ? 
As Adam's offspring I could find no cure, 
My body form'd of dust, my soul impure, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 65 

Could I before my God one moment be, 

And not consum'd ? consum'd eternally ! 

Say, who can cleanse foul man, but God alone ? 

Who but th' Eternal can for man atone ? 

He, sprung from sinful clay, must sinful be, 

Bears such on birth, Jehovah's imag'ry? 

Languishing sickly in the womb of night, 

Can he himself obtain a purer light ? 

From God to us what streams of mercy flow ! * 

From us to God, impurity and woe : 

In Him is only life, 'tis He supplies 

Each grace to man, and fits him for the skies ; 

Long-sufT'rance, mercy, faithfulness, and love, 

Can only emanate from One above. 

Forerunner of my life, Oh ! love divine ! 

In tender infancy my care was Thine ; 

While yet my heart evinc'd its deadly hate, 

Thy love paternal had assign'd my fate. 

What subtle flow'rs, my friend, bestrew'd our way. 

Which in life's spring we cull'd, and thought so gay; 

The furrows whence they sprang, I now can trace, 

While standing firmly on the mount of peace ; 

Now I behold seduction's fiery darts, 

Which flew around our vain and thoughtless hearts ; 

With confidence we stood on the abyss, 

Regarding nought but visionary bliss ! — 

With transport now my soul adores the pow'r 

That deign'd to guide her thro' the dang'rous hour, 



66 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

That when this goblet heedlessly we'd sip, 
Has dash'd the poison'd chalice from our lip, 
Tho' false associates would smiling say, 
Let's take our pleasure while 'tis call'd to-day. 

My friend, what various vessels left the shore 
With us, and now, alas ! are seen no more ! 
Thro' shoals, thro' hidden rocks, and rapid tide, 
Who was our Safe-guard ? who our only Guide ? 
Were they less valued that they're swept from hence; 
Was it our worthiness prov'd this defence ? 
What! notprovok'd Jehovah's righteousness? 
Thou know'st full well thine heart must answer — yes. 
True, guiltless of low vice, or needless wrath, 
Nought but integrity had mark'd our path ; 
Humble our habits, simple our address, 
Becoming pursuits crown'd our happiness : 
Yet, tho' esteem adornd with sundry flow'rs, 
These humble, modest, virtuous, vests of ours, 
Before the Lord of lords, man's wisdom fails, 
The coin that's counterfeit, ne'er long avails ; 
Our hearts deceitful, ignorant, and vain, 
Despis'd His holy word, refus'd the rein, 
And flying from the Saviour, and His love, 
Sought only this world's praise, not that above : 
Each wish absorb'd in sublunary schemes, 
And death regarded but as passing dreams, 
Tho' many a companion by our side, 
Kept dropping off in health and beauty's pride. 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 67 

Why then are they no more, and we remain ? 
Is God to us, and not to them the same ? 
Silence ! vain man, it is Jehovah's grace, 
Which all thy science never can embrace ; 
The loftiest minds may search, and searching still, 
Must ever bow beneath th' Almighty's will ; 
Fain would the stubborn heart this grace defy, 
By ev'ry means and art of sophistry ; 
But it can never change the great design, 
The bound'ry's set, and none may cross the line : 
It is the just and sov'reign will of Heav'n, 
To punish some, while others are forgiv'n. 
Thus 'tis ordain'd ! God then, and God alone, 
Draws off the mantle o'er the idol thrown ; 
Ejects the poison from the goblet pour'd, 
Tempers the raging flame, and sheathes the sword. 
Thou, Lord, didst lead us thro' our wanderings, 
In perils w r e were shelter'd by Thy wings ; 
Unfolding all the treasures of Thy grace, 
Which we in vain attempted to deface ; 
A pard'ning Father turn'd th' uplifted arm, 
Ascrib'd to chance, to fortune, or a charm. 
When I review Thy guidance o'er my ways, 
My soul is lost in wonder, love, and praise ; 
How can I fail rejoicing on my road, 
When ev'ry hour fresh blessings are bestow'd. 
It was Thine hand, Oh ! Lord, that led me forth, 
And plac'd me on this unknown peaceful path, 

K 



68 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

At ev'ry turn Thy warning voice I hear, 

To guard my careless steps from Satan's snare. 

The rivulet once left its hidden source, 

No obstacle can stay its rapid course, 

But swelling gradually keeps rolling on, 

Till having reach'd — is lost in — ocean. 

The soul when first it views the heav'nly ray, 

Thro' doubts and fears pursues a trackless way ; 

Assurance gain'd, she marches rapidly 

With pleasure to her home — eternity. 

" Assurance," say you? "no, it must impart 

" A vaunting pride to ev'ry human heart ; 

" Is there a mortal struggling on his way, 

" Could boast of his salvation, and could say 

" I've nothing more to do? to reach the goal, 

" Our God hath said requires an arduous soul. 

" He who fears God, (and who would dare say, no ?) 

" And humbly seeks t' avoid eternal woe, 

" With purity of life uniting faith, 

" Truth says he ne'er shall taste eternal death ; 

" That when the pulse grows weak, no sad alloy 

" Shall damp his spirit lit with sacred joy, 

" Such hope enlightening his humble road, 

" Is not presumption in the sight of God." 

If these thy sentiments, I pray attend 

One moment to the counsel of a friend, 

The holy word can dissipate thy fear, 

If taught of God, 'tis simple, bright, and clear ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 69 

This two-edg'd sword I would present to view, 

With faith I now address these words to you. 

" When God's salvation is my glorious theme, 

" Fain would I magnify the gospel scheme; 

" Humbly abas'd before His Majesty, 

" I would adore the love that purchased me : 

" In ev'ry thing I'm vile, conceiv'd in sin, 

" My works are all unholy and unclean; 

" If God should mark what I have done amiss, 

" Alas ! I ne'er could enter into bliss ; 

" My soul must then receive its due reward, 

" Death and destruction from an injur'd Lord. 

" But I rejoice that I am brought so low 

" Within the vale where peaceful waters flow, 

u For with sincerity I do confess, 

" That nothing truly virtuous forms my dress, 

" That merit nought avails : before His law 

" Can I but stand confus'd ? so wide the flaw ! 

" My spirit ne'er conceals one hidden crime, 

" Or dares to plead one single work of mine ; 

" Do I inherit aught, or aught acquire, 

" Aught that an holy God could e'er desire ? 

" In each minutest point His laws command, 

" Failing to satisfy the least demand; 

" Degraded thus, Oh ! could I dare aver 

" That God on such an one must peace confer ; 

" Sooner my guilty soul would silent be, 

" Abas'd before Him in humility, 



70 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

" And conscience must repeat each passing day, 

" I loathing turn from ev'ry righteous way." 

With this acknowledgment, wilt thou affirm 

That ostentatious pride can here sojourn, 

That I, undone, condemn'd, could once have thought 

T' have merited of God, or pardon bought ? 

But if I'm pardon'd, if this very grace 

And love be mine, which nothing can efface, 

If God declare to me that ev'ry stain 

And grievous sin is hid in Jesu's name, 

That He, according to His sov'reign will, 

Conquer'd mine enmity, and loves me still, 

Thro' Jesus, has adopted me His son, 

Heir to eternal life, on earth begun, 

Can I deny, when He thus speaks to me ? 

Thou blessedst me, Oh God ! can I doubt Thee ? 

I feel too much encircled by Thy grace, 

That thoughts like these should ever mar my peace : 

But you reply, " How canst thou truly know, 

" That grace especially' s bestow' d on you ? 

" Surely 'tis only when life's ebbing fast, 

" That God's elect confide in favours past ; 

" Is it not God, who ought to know and choose 

" Those whom He will, and whom He will refuse? 

" Could e'en the most audacious dare to raise 

" The veil that shrouds from sight Jehovah's ways ? 

" Tell me from whence thou knowest that thy name 

" Is register'd with those who'll live again : 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 71 

" What title hast thou got from heav'n direct 

" To fully prove that thou art God's elect ? 

" In fine, what witness have you, or what token, 

" That God hath heal'd a heart you say was broken?" 

If thou dost credit me when I affirm 

How oft to thee, my friend, this heart would turn — 

If, by my word, thy confidence is won, 

Without the further proof of kindness done — 

I say again, should this sufficient be, 

And thou, before the deed, believes t me, 

Suppose these words Jehovah deign t' address, 

" I am thy Saviour," what ! believe Him less ? 

Permit me now to show you where I trace 

My right and title to this purchas'd grace : 

'Tis in the promise, that's enough for me, 

Hark ! 'tis Jehovah now addressing thee. 

" He who believes in Christ is God's dear son, 

" Seal'd by the Spirit, he with Christ is one : 

He hath eternal life who thus believes, 

The Spirit to his soul the witness gives ; 

He who was lost is found thro' saving faith, 

This wand'ring sinner is preserv'd from death : 

When the last trumpet sounds, awake from sleep, 

Where is he found ? amongst the chosen sheep ; 

While in the wilderness the Shepherd's eye 

This lamb prevents, and guards when danger's nigh. 

By streamlets pure, with herbage ever crown' d, 

And peace, love, joy, compose an halo round : 



72 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

His heart reflects the Spirit's radiant beam, 

When all below presents a dreary scene : 

He, thus adopted, can without remorse, 

His Saviour follow, and take up the cross ; 

No orphan he, a Father by his side, 

Thro' ev'ry darken'd path will cheer and guide ; 

In all his combats the eternal word 

Proves his support, his safe-guard, and his sword : 

Sin can no more usurp its tyrant sway, 

The Conqu'ror never will his foe obey, 

Nor life, nor death, nor aught in sea or land, 

Can ever wrest him from a Father's hand, 

Nor hell await this pilgrim truly shod, 

And by Jehovah call'd the Son of God, 

Until the day, when his immortal soul 

Has run the race, and reach'd th' eternal goal. 

Thus speaks the God of truth : how therefore plain, 

That if I've faith in Christ, His son I am, 

That in each promise I enjoy a share, 

To His inheritance am lawful heir : 

Why may I not these joys anticipate, 

Tho' seen but dimly thro' the prison grate ? 

But I believe in Christ ; yes, I abjure 

Works of the law, however just and pure, 

And ev'ry human aid. Can they atone ? 

Salvation comes, I know, thro' faith alone 

In the Redeemer — in His sacrifice 

All, all my righteousness and wisdom lies ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 73 

If, therefore, truly I in Christ believe, 

In God my Saviour I must ever live. 

" What ! no repentance," dost thou now exclaim, 

" For heart-born daily sins, the good man's bane ! 

" Without remorse, without th' unutter'd groan, 

" How canst thou reap unless in sorrow sown ? 

" Art thou possessor of the boon in store 

" For those who humbly ow T n that they are poor ? 

Not without hating sin, oh no ! my friend, 

Which I admir'd, and ofttimes would defend ; 

Not without op'ning forth my ev'ry crime, 

Nor genuine penitence to form my shrine, 

That turning to my God with this world's loss, 

I found my pardon nail'd upon His cross. 

If 'tw r ere my former views in days gone by, 

That virtuous deeds, a life of charity, 

Would purchase heav'n, and blot out ev'ry stain, 

I now believe my God, who doth proclaim 

That no one can approach Him ; how much less 

Can any mortal live and not transgress. 

One holy act I have no pow'r alone 

To raise, that e'er could reach the heav'nly throne : 

Suppose (I'd ask my conscience) the Most High 

Were here, could I support His Majesty ? 

When all my worthlessness appear' d in sight, 

Shudd'ring I'd rush from the all-searching light, 

I fain would turn, but on my way with awe 

I'd meet the self-condemning holy law, 



74 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Which must dismantle me of all resource, 

Where righteous judgment is the only course : 

With truth my conscious heart doth humbly cry, 

Behold my worthlessness, my poverty : 

Shipwreck'd upon a dead and dang'rous sea, 

Where can I find in heav'n a port for me ? 

From the recesses inmost of my heart, 

I trust in Christ : faith claims Him as my part, 

Invoking Him as Christ, God's only Son, 

Jesus, Emmanuel, the Eternal One, 

A Saviour promised to our fallen race, 

Ere death announc'd at first the awful case ; 

My heart receives the mystery profound, 

(Tho' angels search, the depth can never sound), 

The mystery that Christ on earth was born, 

To do his Father's will, despis'd, forlorn, 

Altho' th' Eternal God, all-powerful, wise, 

To join the elect, His spouse, yet left the skies, 

And took their human nature without sin, 

Th' e'er-living Spirit habiting within ; 

Our victim and our Prophet, King and Priest, 

Else, could we ever grace the marriage-feast ? 

His body and His spirit bore the wrath, 

And bow'd beneath the dreadful curse gone forth, 

When He exclaim'd from darken'd Calvary, 

My God ! why thus hast Thou forsaken me ? 

He bore indeed th' unalterable curse, 

The wages of those sins incurr'd by us, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 75 

Hid by these awful clouds from God, He cries, 

Hell and the grave await him — thus he dies ! 

None could endure but God this bitter cup, 

Yet for the sinner man, he drank it up ; 

To ope heav'n's gates, the Lord gave up the ghost, 

And laid surrounded by the Demon's host, 

Then o'er the Serpent victory He gains, 

The King of pow'r and glory snapp'd the chains ; 

Salvation thus obtained, He reigns on high, 

And crowns alike His saints with victory ; 

Till that great day when He'll descend with pow'r, 

And o'er His enemies due vengeance show'r, 

But to His chosen warriors will award 

The peace, the joys, the pleasures of their Lord. 

If such my faith, if I the promise hold, 

Which God proclaims to all in bondage sold, 

If seeing Christ to be my sole support, 

That destitute of Him I am as nought, 

In ev'ry strait within His arms I fly, 

Who pleads before His God my destiny — 

What ! see His faithfulness, and not confess 

That I am pardon'd ! where's my thankfulness ? 

That t' whomsoe'er this witness doth receive, 

His joy's an heritage — why not believe? 

Shall I not render to my God all praise, 

Treas'ring within my heart what Christ conveys, 

Possessing fully everlasting peace, 

Assur'd from whence it flows, it ne'er can cease ! 

L 



76 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Perhaps you'll ask, " What ! all who merely say 
" ' I do believe in Christ' are in the way, 
" And, in full confidence, may join indeed 
" The assurance of salvation to their creed ! 
" If it be thus, the elect will not be few, 
" And Zion's road not strait, nor narrow too ; 
" No devotee nor hypocrite can fail 
" To enter into this extensive pale ; 
" Friends of the world, with Bible in their hand, 
" Without a fear may join the common band ; 
" If want of confidence I shew, forgive, 
" That all this multitude will truly live, 
" And rather would a trembling conscience bear, 
" Than in this fallacy one moment share." 
Whate'er you think, the truth will stand secure, 
Tho' combatted with reasons seeming pure, 
" He who believes in Christ shall ne'er see death ; " 
This word has issued from the Almighty breath, 
Yet man's false argument would try to prove, 
The narrow path was never made so smooth. 
Oh incredulity ! what reason's giv'n, 
To shake if possible the will of heav'n ! 
The promise once bestow'd remains the same, 
" Who trusts in Christ is sealed with His name." 
The source from whence it issues is Divine, 
It lies conceal'd then from the libertine; 
Let him beware, lest tempted to esteem 
Faith merely as a science or a dream, 



THE SONCJ OF PEACE. 77 

Or think philosophy could e'er disclose 

The produce of this plant, and how it grows, 

Or that a simple faith in Jesu's name, 

Is the delusion of a mind insane ; 

Where'er the cause is hid, to prove th' effect, 

Would shew in argument no slight defect. 

Faith in the Lord springs not, nor ever can, 

From out the tomb where lies the sinner man : 

No, mortal man, and in a fallen state, 

Could ne'er invent a heaven, or life create ; 

No, the corruption of a treach'rous world 

Truth's banners ne'er desir'd to see unfurl'd. 

Not to the schools pertaineth, nor the wise, 

To solve this mystery of mysteries. 

God, to reveal his grace to fallen man, 

Ne'er waited for a sage t' approve the plan, 

And say, " Behold the light which heav'nward leads, 

" Follow but me, and God will bless thy deeds ; " 

God opes the door to set the prisoner free, 

The Spirit whispers, " Jesus died for thee;" 

And when the culprit breathes this vital air, 

He views Jehovah's charity laid bare : 

Thro' the Omnipotent, the human heart 

Alone could apprehend this better part — 

This living faith new energy will give, 

Hear what Jehovah says, " Believe, and live." 

Why at these words should mortals turn aside? 

Or why this gracious gift disturb their pride ? 



78 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Ah ! why, since God hath sent His mercy down, 

Should ev'ry sinner say, with scornful frown, 

" I'll not accept it, I am rich, content, 

" Andneed no proffer'd boon that's heav'nward sent." 

" Judg'd by the law, vain man," doth God reply, 

" Listen to mercy, wherefore will ye die ?" 

Still man will say, " The law may take its course. 

" What ! am I left deprived of all resource? 

" Imperfect, yet I'm not in such a plight 

" To be proscrib'd accursed in His sight, 

" If ev'ry venial sin be noted down, 

" Who would receive at last th' eternal crown? 

" I've sinn'd ; but if the law should say to me, 

" Reform thy life, and thou shalt perfect be — 

" Attending to this rational appeal, 

" I rest content, misgivings need I feel? 

" I'm offer'd grace, if aught should intervene 

" 'Twixt us, if I accept, I lift the screen, 

" My option's not annull'd — but resting still, 

" Am not I master of my own free will ? 

" What reason penetrates, I dare conceive, 

" And what I comprehend, I may believe ; 

" If I become a Christian, can I doubt 

" That reason found this saving secret out ?" 

Suppose thou hast occasion to complain, 

And that within thee burns this heav'nly flame, 

If, as thou dost affirm, thy reas'ning pow'r 

Thro' heav'n invisible can always soar ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 79 

And if, by certain forms, thou hast the key 

To enter at thy will this sanctuary, 

How then doth Holy "Writ so oft express, 

That none by nature e'er could first possess 

Aught intimation of our Lord's design, 

In thus supplying grace for every crime ? 

And why has God pronounc'd, the carnal mind 

Can never know Him, but is wholly blind ? 

(How can it possibly to heav'n aspire, 

Since terrene scenes absorb its sole desire), 

That when these joys become the sage's theme, 

'Tis merely an enthusiastic dream, 

That ev'ry heart's impure, at ev'ry source, 

(Whate'er it then ejects is foul of course), 

That marring truth, in principle and form, 

The splendid column all attempt t' adorn ; 

That when the voice exclaims, " Why thus defile 

" With these your daubings the celestial pile?" 

The nat'ral man replies with sullen pride, 

" Thou shalt not be our Ruler, nor our Guide ; " 

That dull and heartless for eternal joys, 

His taste is vitiated by earth's alloys; 

That he will judge the word of life with pride, 

That he'll detest it, fear it, and deride — 

Preferring to the teaching from on high, 

Some futile project ending in a lie ; 

So that of God, alas ! remains no trace, 

In our degenerate and fallen race. 



80 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

In sin we lie, in all its dread deform, 
From heav'n, from hope, and from our God with- 
drawn ; 
That we can ne'er escape by human pow'r, 
But deeper still ingulf 'd each passing hour, 
And that the realms of joy we ne'er shall view, 
Unless the Spirit form our heart anew. 
Oh sage ! by nature prov'd to be unfit 
For heav'n, alike condemn' d in Holy Writ — 
Still dost thou cling to ev'ry human aid, 
Eejecting simple faith thro' Christ convey 'd? 
These solemn words do you conceive a farce, 
A tinkling cymbal, or the sounding brass ? 
Or does thy conscience testify they bear 
A living witness — potent, just, and clear : 
If God declare it, say, durst thou alone, 
With reason for thine aid, usurp His throne ? 
In thy degraded state could'st thou devise, 
To draw salvation from some new supplies ? 
Oh ! what perfidious thoughts, what dang'rous 

dreams, 
Or rather Satan's dark and treach'rous schemes ! 
Who, while he tempts, conceals their dreadful loss 
From all who shun the Saviour and the cross ; 
By ev'ry means provokes them to defy, 
To disbelieve, to curse their God, and die ! 

Ah ! fearful case for that presumptuous worm, 
From God's Anointed that would proudly turn ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 81 

Woe be to him who, flying from the light, 
Follows his reason, and is lost in night ! 
The feeble child, surpris'd by ev'ning shade, 
Pursues an " ignis fatuus " till betray'd 
Within a marsh, then bitterly will cry, 
Tho' lost in silence and obscurity ; 
As at the moment when the tempest's roar, 
Issues as 'twere from out th' eternal store, 
The mocker or profane, who thought to brave, 
Is dumb ! that flash disclos'd the op'ning grave . 
Thus he who flies from Jesu's outstretch' d hand 
Hastens his steps to death's devoted land, 
And senseless runs towards the fatal close, 
Where all his hopes return, from whence they rose — ■ 
Where fancied peace and rash presumption fail, 
And leave the pris'ner destitute of bail — 
Where all his pride and his audacity 
Are paralyz'd before Thy piercing eye : 
Thy dreadful fire he meets upon the road, 
Which drives him from Thy presence, mighty God ! 
Consign' d for ever to Thine enemy, 
With him must live, the worm can never die ! 
Thou sage ! who dazzl'd by fictitious fame, 
Dost count but foolishness the Saviour's name, 
And in thy soil would e'en profess to rear 
A plant which grows in a far brighter sphere ; 
Who, thro' false colours and enticing words, 
Would wrest true wisdom from the Lord of lords, 



82 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

And at the last, by thy philosophy, 

Would entrance gain to immortality ; 

Say, do thy learned essays well compute 

The future, and thy peace can none dispute ? 

Or mathematically canst define 

Eternity, without the aid of time ? 

Canst thou contemplate silently the tomb — 

Or if 'twere op'ning, say, ' Come, Jesus, come V 

Could you, without misgivings or a fear, 

Approach in sight the sacred barrier, 

Disarming death of his accursed sting, 

And stand 'fore God without the Saviour's wing ? 

But if thy wisdom and thy lofty mind 

Be nought but vanities and lies combin'd, 

If He, who only sees and judges right, 

Hath weigh'd thy gold, and found it base, and light, 

If thy morality, at last, receive 

The recompence of those who disbelieve — 

If, after all, thy system incomplete 

Is prov'd before Jehovah's judgment-seat, 

Thrust from thy pinnacle of pride and bliss, 

Could'st thou without despair fall down th' abyss ? 

When in the gulf, bereft of hope or cure, 

Wilt thank the schools, and think their doctrine pure ? 

Ah ! meditate on this, thou learned sage, 

And turn thy talents to the sacred page ; 

Remember well, thine hour must quickly come, 

When God, the mighty God, will seal thy doom ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 83 

Yes, ev'ry creature, ev'ry age, and clime, 
Must haste to judgment ; what will then be thine ? 
Dar'st thou to brave the advent of our Lord ? 
Or stand defenceless 'gainst th' avenging sword ? 
Oh ! banish not the thought, e'en now the earth 
Is op'ning to receive the Adam's birth ; 
None, none believe that awful day is nigh, 
Tho' God hath said, I'll call thee suddenly ! 
Thou who know'st how to think, think on thy soul, 
Think how thy fleeting hours uncertain roll : 
Hark ! Christ now loudly calls, believe his love, 
Be fool for this world, wise for that above. 

Thrice happy he whose heart with joy rebounds, 
Who hears aright the gospel's cheerful sounds, 
Who, valuing the once-made sacrifice, 
Sells all he hath to gain the Pearl of Price. 
(Ah ! happy penitent, thy contrite mind 
Sees wisdom only by thy God defin'd) ; 
At Jesus' feet he hears the truth with joy, 
Which science can't refute, tho' dares destroy : 
His soul the temple of the Holy Ghost, 
Thro' Him beholds more love than Adam lost, 
And from His sov'reign teaching doth await, 
Wisdom which purifies his earth-born state ; 
Submitting thus, on heav'nly food he lives, 
Peace which the world ne'er gave, the Spirit gives ; 
He searching faithfully his precious mine, 
With rapture views around the brilliants shine ; 

M 



84 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Adoption yields the pow'r this mine to sound, 

The Spirit sheds His secret influence round ; 

Thus seizing ev'ry promise as a boon, 

A rich celestial treasure all his own, 

In ev'ry grief he proves his soothing pow'r, 

In ev'ry combat finds a shield and tow'r, 

And with assurance seeks Jehovah's face, 

Approaching boldly thus the throne of grace : 

u Blest be Thy name, my Saviour, King, and Friend ! 

" In all my paths Thy presence doth attend ; 

" Oh ! Prince of Peace, I ofttimes muse on Thee ! 

" Thro' all Thy suff'rings in Gethsemane ! 

" When Thou on Calvary, ' 'tis fmish'd,' cried, 

" And pour'd a healing fountain from Thy side ! 

" Away then ev'ry fear and fancied pains 

" Of endless torments, bound in Satan's chains : 

" Within Thy grave were laid my yoke and pride, 

" And with Thee rose my spirit justified : 

" I know Thy banner will conduct me right, 

" Thro' the dark gloom and dangers of the night, 

" My grateful heart now answers to Thy voice, 

" I die to earth, but in thy cross rejoice ; 

" 'Tis Thou, my Saviour, tho' the world defame, 

" I do confess, and glory in Thy name : 

" My heart rebounds when nature feels disgrace, 

" For on that pathway all Thy steps I trace ; 

" Thus faultless I approach my Father's throne, 

" In garments white, Thy righteousness alone. 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 85 

" Thy everlasting love can ne'er decrease, 

" Nor fail — Thou solace of my heav'nly peace." 

The trial o'er, the awful sentence pass'd, 
The prisoner left without a hope at last, 
Absorbed in anguish o'er the season gone, 
He dares not contemplate what soon must come — 
At ev'ry step which brings him near the close, 
Hope's last long ling'ring look he shudd'ring throws; 
When hark ! a pardon ! thousand voices cry, 
The weight's remov'd from woe to ecstasy. 
My Lord, it is a joyful sound indeed, 
To hear Thy voice proclaim a sinner freed ! 
Jesus he contemplates with living faith, 
As messenger of peace, as conqu'ring death, 
Tears of true penitence and love o'erflow, 
And gratitude which angels ne'er can know ; 
" Jesus !" he cries, " how dear that name to me, 
" Sav'd from the gulf, and that alone by Thee ; 
" By Thee, Thou Son of God, Thine own free boon, 
" Thro' love will bring each wand'ring sinner home ; 
" 'Tis Thou who satisfied th' avenging rod, 
" I cannot die, for I shall see my God !" 

Observe, my friend, when grace begins her part, 
She gives a searching, humble, contrite heart, 
The Spirit doth its energy diffuse 
O'er the soul torpid, and the life renews ; 
God's holy word this new-born heart believes, 
And Christ, as Saviour, eagerly receives ; 



86 THE SONG OF PEACE, 

The Spirit hence the sword of truth applies, 
And by its quick'ning influence sanctifies. 
Faith issues only from a source divine, 
In God's decrees it takes its origin ; 
The sinner, wrapt in death, see now he lives, 
And why ? th' Omnipotent His Spirit gives : 
Th' Eternal breath'd upon his dormant soul, 
When a celestial flame illum'd the whole, 
Piercing through glooms where this blind wand'rer 

stray'd, 
Where ev'ry step he took from heav'n convey'd. 
God's word, th' immortal seed, the Spirit sows 
Within the sinner's heart, and there it grows ; 
While faith assurance gives (a precious stay), 
That none can ever root this plant away. 
Faith from on high, and that which pain and toil 
Graft on the mind, spring out from diff'rent soil; 
Fruit from the latter, education yields, 
It ripens best in philosophic fields — 
Metal prepar'd and work'd into the mould 
By art, must still retain the form when cold ; 
A parrot speaks a hundred words at once, 
But passing wise, at best he's found a dunce ; 
Childish credulity is easy led, 
To feel for some things love, for others dread, 
And, at a word, will bend its suppliant knee, 
In Christian worship, or idolatry ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 87 

God acts not thus, He says not to the son 
" Believe thou as thine ancestors have done ;" 
But following the decree already giv'n, 
He, whom his God foreknew, is heir of heav'n ; 
Ere worlds were form'd, He view'd the human race, 
And form'd the plan to save by sov'reign grace ; 
In Christ, Jehovah his election made, 
These at his time behold the ransom paid. 
The sole Creator's word no sooner pass'd, 
Than out of chaos all our world stood fast ; 
That which receiv'd His flat to exist, 
Had not the pow'r, if willing, to resist ; 
As at the first, He spake the word, and light 
Gave glory, and dispers'd the shades of night ; 
Thus by His word He spreads His healing ray 
O'er him He loves, and gives the pow'r to pray ; 
The Spirit seals him, saying, " Thou art mine, 
A fruitful branch of Christ the living Vine." 
Yes, Christian ! faith's the sov'reign gift of Heav'n, 
Tho' with it man dare blend his earthy leav'n, 
Jesus had purchas'd thee a precious gem, 
When wrapt in ign'rance, sunk in Satan's den ; 
But when the master hand retriev'd the stone, 
His glory it reflected — His alone. 

Away from hence all pharisaic boast 
Of virtue, science, or of worldly cost ! 
With pomp the hypocrite will trace his deeds, 
Call him a devot, and his art succeeds ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 



To heav'nly wisdom why should he aspire ? 
The man is perfect, all the world admire ; 
Christ's love is then superfluous for this saint, 
'Tis quite enough for him, the outside paint — 
Glory's his idol, if he gain the world, 
God, and his love, are to the refuse hurl'd. 
Oh ! leave the superstitious soul to find 
In fasts and penances a peaceful mind, 
Gall'd by the iron yoke of servile form, 
With mystic tears his trembling heart to warm ; 
Can hell await a mortal so morose, 
Who bears on earth all sorrows in the gross ? 
But why confide in penances and pain ? 
(Seed never springs without the genial rain), 
Regarding God's eternal love with awe, 
This love you dare transform to rig'rous law ? 
All mere professors let us likewise leave, 
Themselves they may, but cannot God deceive ; 
On birth an off' ring made to the Most High, 
(Would it were false to call it blasphemy), 
With air devout their crowds to church repair, 
And only fear lest God should hear their prayer ; 
For custom's sake they take the bread and wine, 
But leave for saints the proof of outward sign, 
Some sighs, or tears perhaps, at most, tho' last, 
A week of preparation, or a fast. 
Vain man ! believe an heritage divine, 
Can ne'er be found in principles like thine. 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 89 

These worldly Christians simply seek their own, 
And look for harvest where they have not sown ; 
Fearful to shock, they dare dethrone the Son, 
, And call it charity, condemning none ; 
In word and deed, we see, at ev'ry glance, 
Pray'rs and the play, the Bible and romance ; 
A secret ne'er reveal'd, to them is clear, 
That sin and grace may arm in arm appear, 
And sensuality devotion feigns, 
While some frail actress warbles Handel's strains. 
Ye hypocrites ! still crying, " all is well," 
Why will ye madly sound your own death-knell ? 
Jehovah, by His prophets, said of old, 
That ev'ry thought and word He will unfold ; 
That 'twixt the world and Christ no love exists — 
Where then must ye be found ? On Satan's lists. 
" On Satan's lists ! yet sons of Britain's isle, 
" Where God so graciously has deign' d to smile ; 
" Of popish Rome, or barren Afric's shore, 
" Where all is darkness, you could add no more." 
Unless Jehovah gives an ear to hear, 
A desert still remains, tho' sound were near; 
Of crowds surrounding Christ, but one we read 
Touch'd Him in faith, and she alone was freed. 

" But we admit His sovereign pow'r," say you, 
u That Christ's the Son of G-od we know is true." 
Well ! if He's known to you, resign your heart, 
Keep His commandments wholly, not in part, 



90 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Turn round your boat, and stem the rapid tide 

Beset by dangers tho', on ev'ry side, 

And sacrifice to Him what pleasure pleads, 

Placing the gospel-seal on all your deeds ; 

Oh ! meditate upon that solemn close, 

When Christ in truth will ev'ry heart expose, 

For fear he should not deign at last to bless 

A faith which cannot love true holiness. 

Ah ! holiness, oh Lord ! is pure and bright, 

And of Thine attributes, the central light ; 

All Thy decrees from holiness arise, 

The food, the joy, and glory of the skies ; 

The mark indelible of ev'ry heir, 

By holiness 'tis prov'd that grace is there ; 

Yes, it is this, my friend, whose mighty force, 

Causes 'twixt God and mammon a divorce ; 

Veil'd in His holiness behold our God, 

Points to the path which ev'ry saint hath trod ; 

'Tis as the azure crown, and regal vest, 

In which he triumphing pursues his rest, 

Or, as it were, th' immortal Sov'reign's mould, 

Stamp'd on true living faith — His own pure gold : 

He rides above the waves, tho' storms increase, 

They only urge him to the port of peace. 

Break forth, my soul ! to God hosannas raise, 

Who call'd thee forth to tread His sacred ways; 

His holiness is shed o'er ev'ry part, 

And draws a filial homage from my heart— 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 91 

Her beauty once beheld, the soul admires, 
Yields to her empire, kindling pure desires, 
Her rights are absolute, the rich, profound, 
Noble and poor, obey the same glad sound, 
And tho' this treasure worldlings hide from view, 
Yet their remorse must celebrate it too. 
O'er earth was holiness, ere yet the stain 
Brought death into the world, and all our pain, 
But soon as sin defil'd this once bright sphere, 
And threw a gloom and curse on all things here, 
Too pure for earth, her glorious rays withdrew, 
To immortality she homewards flew ; 
Lo ! from this hemisphere see Christ arise, 
With pow'r to reinstate the precious prize, 
In covenanted peace its rule confirm, 
And planting there His cross, the boon return : 
He breathes its sacred influence o'er each child, 
Its vig'rous energy, its teachings mild, 
Thro' Him it rests within the new-born soul, 
Where ev'ry action shews its pure control ; 
Thus man's encourag'd by the great " I AM," 
To bear the glorious image of the Lamb ; 
Sooner affirm when morning is begun, 
That light or heat ne'er issued from the sun, 
Than think the Christian lives who could refrain 
From love, or following in Jesu's train. 

" Still, if a man be sure," thou dost allege, 
" Of his salvation, and has now the pledge, 



92 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

" Sure that the second death will never pass 

" On him, as on an unbelieving mass, 

" That ev'ry daily sin is blotted out 

" Without reserve, without a single doubt, 

" Will he not brave with his licentious caste 

"The sentence? tho' immutable at last; 

" If in this grace for pardon he confides, 

" Will he live holier than his will prescribes ?" 

What ! would the prisoner, whose dreary cell 

Might render even sweet his fun'ral bell, 

Return, altho' repriev'd, within the wall, 

O'er which his mournful tale he'd ofttimes scrawl ? 

What ! if the headlong torrent in its course 

Meets and o'ercomes resistance by its force, 

Would the opposing wave fall back again, 

Seeking its glacier lake, and not the plain *? 

What ! if the eagle 'scape the treach'rous snare, 

Could any bait again entice him there ? 

Or skirting clouds and mounting up on high, 

Be tempted more to leave his kindred sky ? 

Impossible ! you'll say, then how can he, 

Who once has tasted Christian liberty, 

By Satan's yoke be e'er entrammell'd more ? 

Safe in the ark, desire to force the door ? 

Thro' Christ regenerate, 'tis now his boast 

To magnify around the princely cost ; 

Before he laid within the dreary grave, 

Loving the law of sin, became its slave, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 93 

Disdainfully the way of death he strode, 

While ev'ry step announc'd his dire abode ; 

Each inclination form'd a selfish deed, 

Cloth' d in morality, tho' still a weed, 

And he, the basest slave e'er tyrant sway'd, 

Tho' bound in fetters, willingly obey'd ; 

But God hath broke the yoke, hath loos'd his bands, 

Exchang'd thern for a father's lov'd commands ; 

He, in his tranquil walk, the difference shows 

'Twixt Satan's servitude, and Christ's repose, 

Seal'd by the Spirit, as a son he's known, 

Approaching boldly the paternal throne, 

In fervour breathing out his faults and fears, 

His ev'ry sigh and groan a Father hears, 

Confirms the promises, affords relief, 

And grafts upon his soul a firm belief ; 

Heav'n is his destination — 'tis his home, 

Then what can tempt this traveller to roam ? 

His known adoption and his Saviour's love, 

Are wafted to him by the mystic Dove ; 

And if satanic schemes should lead astray, 

One moment from the straight and peaceful way, 

The trembling heart would feel its own distress, 

And thus the Saviour humbly dare t'address : 

" How have I folded sin within my arms, 

" Of my adoption where, ah ! where the charms ? 

" Grieving the Spirit who has seal'd me Thine, 

" The title I despis'd Thou said'st was mine ; 



94 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

" Ransom'd by Christ, rejoicing in Thy name. 

" Of these alas ! what vestiges remain ? 

" Oh God ! my Father ! e'en before Thine eyes, 

" The goblet, wilfully I drank, of lies ; 

a Oh blessed Saviour ! all my debts forgive, 

" That in Thy holy law I yet may live : 

" Jesus ! remove my secret sins afar, 

" And light my path again, bright morning star." 

Thus one united to his God will groan, 

And o'er his tarnish'd vesture doth bemoan, 

In Belial's camp he stands asham'd, forlorn, 

Treated with sneers, and pointed at with scorn ; 

He, to his Saviour cries, the Shepherd hears 

His lamb, tho' stray'd, and in His bosom bears, 

Till safe within the fold, his joys renew, 

Such sweet repose ere yet he never knew. 

They little think what luxuries abound 

To those who live upon celestial ground, 

Who could suppose the Christian's inward joy 

Engender'd or improv'd by earth's alloy, 

Or think the seal of holiness at best 

Licentious liberty when neatly dress'd ; 

Ah ! if they could but taste, in some degree 

That peace, and were from Satan's yoke set free, 

If Christ's example or His witness shone 

One day across their path, in journeying on, 

Or had they felt th' effects, however slight, 

Of holy joy, and entering into light, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 05 

'Twere plain, that all to whom the Lord's reveal'd, 

Walk by the Spirit, by Jehovah seal'd ; 

That Christ, the Shepherd, gave his feeble flock 

The law to guide them safely to the rock, 

And not to leave them in the wilderness 

A prey to all assaults in their distress ; 

That for His saints the King doth well provide, 

Hell's gates are clos'd, but Zion's open'd wide ; 

That in each combat, God supplies their shield, 

When in despair His naked arm's reveal'd ; 

That whilst He guards, on ev'ry side upholds, 

Answers their cry, within His breast enfolds, 

Binds up the broken heart, averts the tear, 

Dispels the mists, and makes their prospect clear ; 

When, from faith's banners they would turn away, 

That by affliction's rod they're taught t' obey, 

(For chastenings true humility ensure, 

The heart they sanctify and folly cure) ; 

That as the furnace purines the ore, 

So trials teach a truth unknown before, 

For still they bear about corrupted clay, 

And need this admonition — Watch and pray. 

Thus are the servants taught, who know their Lord ; 

O'er ev'ry soul these beams are shed abroad ; 

Within the bound'ry feeds the blessed flock, 

A covert 'gainst the storm, stands Christ, the rock, 

His well-known voice is heard in danger's hour, 

To warn when threat'ning clouds begin to low'r, 



96 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

And lead to pools supplied with heav'nly rain, 
That those who drink may never thirst again. 
Behold the gallant bark in summer seas, 
Unreeling ev'ry sail to catch the breeze ! 
Cutting the waves, she leaves the ripple curl'd, 
Thro' trackless space to gain a distant world : 
Thus one o'er whom the Spirit sheds His beams, 
Turns swift away from sublunary scenes, 
Ne'er looking back, rejoicing as he goes 
To Zion's city — to the saint's repose. 

Who dare the Spirit's influence to scorn, 
Ah ! better far, they never had been born, 
His holy nature combats in the just 
'Gainst ev'ry pride of life, and fleshly lust, 
How they bewail, on viewing all around, 
By this world's prince, tyrannically bound. 
'Tis to deny the Spirit, once to think — 
That Christians yet may stand upon the brink ; 
That many a seductive gilded barb, 
May still find entrance thro' a Christian's garb. 

Oh no ! salvation's not a gift in part, — 
God never said, " 111 aid thee, now depart 
" And persevere, thou must alone maintain 
" The work that I began, and end the same." 
Ah ! if to realms of life I dare aspire, 
By rend'ring pure, and perfect, each desire, 
Without the Spirit's work and influence given — 
How oft I'd die upon my road to Heaven : 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 97 

When worldly love, and pride, my heart supplies, 

Enough t' oppose my feeble enterprize : 

When ev'ry day, my frail, deceitful soul, 

To sensual inclinations yields control; — 

But God's eternal love knows no caprice, 

His grace attends us to the port of peace. 

The work begun He promis'd to perform, 

The child once call'd, is never left forlorn — 

Till reaching Paradise, beyond death's shade, 

That rest prepar'd — ere yet the world was made. 

My portion this, e'en Satan I defy, 

For God in whom I've trusted cannot lie : 

Yes, well I know with Christ my soul's entwin'd, 

A living stone unto His temple join'd ; 

That He is gone, a mansion to prepare 

For me, when death's grim tyrant brings despair ; 

That He'll illuminate the dreary vale, 

And to the realms of bliss, my spirit hail. 

Upon my watch-tower now I take my stand, 
And faithfully attend to His command — 
Assur'd that my deliverance I shall see, 
If in true faith I act obediently. 
(Had God ne'er lov'd me, Oh ! what sad reverse, 
Nought to await from justice, but a curse !) 
By Jesus arm'd, and cloth'd, I'll never yield, 
Whoe'er I meet with in the battle field. 
Soon I shall find my combat is the last, 
My joys begun, my sorrows only past ; 



98 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

My heart unshaken, will in faith adore 

His grace, and promises, — what need it more ? 

Dear Friend, I ask, have you in this a share ? 
Could you, with truth say yes, if God were near ? 
Doth His eternal Spirit dwell in thee ? 
Seal'd is thy soul for all eternity ? 
And thus as God's elect, dost thou resolve 
To live in Jesus's peace, as years revolve ? 
If now thine earthly fragile bonds should burst, 
That bind th' immortal spirit to the dust, 
Could it in calm security I ask, 
Confront its holy Judge, throw off the mask ? 
When life or death's thy doom, when Heav'n or Hell, 
No false delusion then can raise a spell ! 
Answer, from out the tomb could you ascend 
This very moment, and no fear portend ? 
And now could'st say, if death this instant call, 
" I sleep in Christ, my God, my hope, my all." 
Ah ! if you dread the day, and thus reply, 
" Who can assure me that I shall not die — 
" That by the blood of Christ my sins are lav'd, 
" My soul is pardon'd and already sav'd, 
" That it pertains to Heav'n, and death's drear night 
" Will ope the door which leads to endless light ?" 
If such your language be, Alas ! mistrust 
Deprives you of that mercy, solely just ; 
You, on your virtuous deeds, dependence place. 
Thus would you merit the free gift of grace, 



THE SONCx OF PEACE. 99 

And therefore tremble at thy awful state, 

When conscience points, and says, " behold your 

fate." 
But if all works of Man you cast aside, 
Assur'd thro' faith, salvation must abide : 
That tho' unworthy, God will yet accord 
His gift thro' mercy — not as a reward : 
If, in thy broken heart, confessing sore, 
That thou condemn'd must stand unsound at core, 
Feeling thy ev'ry promise, tear and sigh, 
The oft-broke law could never satisfy ; 
That no resource remains for thy distress, 
But in a Saviour's love and faithfulness ; 
If Christ in living faith you've truly sought, 
Contemplating His death as pardon bought ; 
Ah ! if Thy soften'd heart th' avowal make, 
That in the Son of God, you refuge take ; 
The faithful promise then — why not receive ? 
" He shall have life who doth on Christ believe ;" 
Thus giving God the glory, not the lie — 
My friend would see his title to the sky ; 
His soul in peace would join the ransom' d throng, 
" Christ is my life, my portion, and my song." . 



100 
THE SONG OF PEACE 

CONTINUED. 



Her ivays are icays of pleasantness, avd all her paths are peace.— 
Proverbs in. 17. 



The translation of the "Chant de Paix" afforded me 
many hours of amusement during our journey into Italy, 
in the autumn of 1832, and with the exception of a licence 
here and there, I endeavoured to keep close to the original : 
on our return into Switzerland, in the spring of 1833, I 
followed up the suhject, with the sole desire, that it might 
he in accordance with the word of God. 



A trav'ller journeying in a foreign land, 
Obeys implicitly his guide's command, 
There many a rugged rock, and dreary waste, 
He traverses with joy, and anxious haste, 
Nor dwells o'er weary hours, or dangers past, 
But eyes the height which he surmounts at last ; 
When first he treads upon the vantage ground, 
With transport, yet with caution, looks around, 
Gladly remunerates his faithful guide, 
Who thro' the dang'rous path ne'er left his side. 
If momentary bliss expands the breast 
Of him who gains a temporary rest, 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 101 

If deep felt gratitude is thus display'd, 
To one who lends but mercenary aid, 
The Christian pilgrim will indeed rejoice, 
Led by the whisp'rings of " the still small voice/' 
Through doubts, misgivings, persecutions, fears, 
Thro' days of sorrow, and thro' nights of tears, 
When safely landed on the mount of peace, 
Where Satan's bruis'd, and disappointments cease, 
When the dark mist's dispers'd that hid from view 
The devious path his Saviour led him through ; 
Ah ! w T hen he once beholds how vast the cost, 
That reft of it, he is a sinner lost ! 
His soul illumin'd with these resplendent rays, 
The penitent's dissolv'd in love and praise. 
Thus on the sacred mount I tune my lyre, 
And humbly dare to join th' angelic choir, 
Imploring Him who shew'd my course was wrong, 
To give my soul its utterance and song. 
Oh ! what a glorious theme to fallen man, 
Who but Jehovah could have fram'd the plan ; 
Here love and justice cordially embrace, 
While the Creator's cloth' d in man's disgrace — 
The awful curse on Adam, " thou shalt die," 
Fill'd up each child of Adam's destiny ; 
For as our Father fell, 'twere vain to think 
That aught his progeny could join the link. 
Eternal love shone bright ere sin had sprung, 
Of Christ's atonement, e'en the angels sung : 



102 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Yet man ! fallen man ! so blinded and insane. 
By virtue lost, would Paradise regain, 
Thro' deep research, by many a subtle scheme, 
Seeks truth t' unfold — still ending in a dream. 
Philosophers have shown th' immortal mind 
With vain pursuits could never be combin'd. 
That transient pleasures will not satisfy 
A spirit born to immortality ; 
Then by false theories the truth is brav'd, 
And the broad road to ruin's smoothly pav'd. 
Tho' anchor weigh'd, unfurl' d tho' ev'ry sail, 
The ship lies motionless without the gale ; 
But once the canvass feels the fav'ring wind, 
How swift she leaves all former scenes behind. 
An honest man is God's best work, 'tis said, 
Without a reference to the ransom paid ; 
Not mere profession, name, but cleans'd within, 
Freed from this world's temptation and from sin, 
Thus, he's the noblest work, who dare deny ? 
And yet traduc'd by worldly sympathy ; 
The heart renew'd, pow'r, riches, pleasure, fame, 
Are turn'd to glorify a Saviour's name ; 
The perfume bought to render self complete, 
Was pour'd in grateful joy o'er Jesu's feet — 
One who had crucified his Lord again, 
Deem'd it a privilege to bear His chain. 
For Jesu's love he counted all but loss — 
His only triumph was a Saviour's cross ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 103 

Not to obtain a merit or reward, 
For self he sacrificed to serve His Lord ; 
Nought that is earthly could this love impart, 
No, 'twas the Spirit's gift — a change of heart : 
When Jesus o'er the route His radiance throws, 
The Eunuch's seen rejoicing as he goes. 
Nature stands witness in the genial rain, 
Which rots to fructify the harden'd grain ; 
First issue fibres growing into roots- 
Then a stalk rises, bearing flow'rs and fruits. 
That wondrous symbol of a child of grace, 
A worm, which in the web you scarcely trace. 
Soon as the work is finish' d, he must die — 
Thus chang'd his nature to a butterfly, 
The grov'lling state forgot, he casts aside, 
Flutt'ring thro' sunny ways in conscious pride, 
Nor stays his wing, save o'er some fragrant flow'r, 
While adding sweet to sweet each passing hour. 
The trav'ller having pierc'd a forest through, 
Bursts in a moment on a mountain brow, 
His ravish'd eye with hurried glances hails 
The tranquil lake, the mountains, groves, and dales, 
From sense to soul the glowing picture flies, 
And the full heart pours forth her sympathies, 
Clothing afresh in sweet melodious strain, 
The scene around it animates again ; 
His senseless beast beholds the landscape too, 
The respite he enjoys, but not the view ; 



104 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Thus man by nature sees what saints will call 
Their own, and add — " My Father made them all." 

The pilgrim ponders o'er his precious chart, 
Which gives his route, his resting place, and mart ; 
Here, remedies are found for each disease, 
There, for the healthy wines upon the lees, 
Milk for the babe, and meat to feed the strong, 
Guide, lamp, and succour to the ransom' d throng : 
A friend once flattering a sage of yore 
Upon his well-selected classic lore — 
" Yes," the philosopher in truth replied, 
" My books I value, yet not one beside 
" This volume, doth true light and wisdom give, 
" It taught me how to die, the way to live." 
Jehovah's attributes in ev'ry page 
Stand forth unchangeable from age to age, 
The Christian here beholds the grand design — 
He sees it shadow 'd forth in ev'ry line, 
Throughout his chart can trace the healing stream, 
Develop' d once in vision, and in dream : 
* 4 Search but the word," said Christ, " and you will 

see" 
How ev'ry part doth testify of me ; 
See Abel's sacrifice, and that of Cain, 
The last rejected, but the firstling slain 
Found favour, from the emblem it convey 'd 
Of Christ's atonement, subsequently made. 



THE SONG Of PEACE. 105 

See faithful Abram's solemn sacrifice, 

When on the pile the Child of promise lies, 

The word adumbrated — God spares the life, 

An Angel's sent t' arrest the murd'rous knife. 

The sole curs'd reptile, see it plac'd on high, ^ 

And those made whole who rais'd the contrite eye; > 

Thus all who look to Christ can never die. 3 

Within an ark the broken law's consign'd, 

Sole testimony of th' eternal mind ; 

Beside it manna, and the budding rod, 

Our justice, food, and fruit, in Christ our God ; 

And Israel's sweet Psalmist strung his lyre 

To Him, his soul's salvation and desire. 

When Prophecy takes up the wondrous theme, 

And points to fallen man the Gospel scheme, 

Fresh inspiration seems that moment given — - 

The utterance bespeaks a voice from Heav'n ; 

A Son is born, a Son has suffer'd shame, 

Thus truth has seal'd the once mysterious train, 

Thro' forty centuries, ere yet our earth 

Could fully recognize a Saviour's birth, 

Till God became our flesh, we clearly view 

The glimm'ring light which led the chosen Jew : 

As when the borrow' d moonbeam's pallid ray 

Illumes the weary traveller on his way, 

How soft and chaste the landscape doth appear, 

But needs the Parent light to make it clear ; 



J 00 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Tho' oft the narrow pathway's hid in shade, 

An open spot brings back the precious aid, 

Tho' oft obscur'd by an o'ershadowing cloud, 

Concealing from his view the wish'd abode, 

Still plodding onwards he arrives at home, 

Yet ignorant from whence the light had shone — 

While those in sleep could neither see nor prize 

This luminary of nocturnal skies. 

But when the Sun of righteousness arose, 

Oh ! what a prospect did its rays disclose ; 

At Cana's marriage banquet Christ was found — 

The emblem prov'd He deem'd it hallow'd ground ; 

The once pure water blush' d with conscious awe, 

When in reality th' atonement saw ; 

Of outward cleansing now what further need ? 

For Christ the Sacrifice was come indeed, 

Pourtraying how the soul is purified, 

Adorn' d in marriage-garment as the bride ; 

In glorious colours did our Lord display 

His union with the sinner, and the way. 

The church throughout her pilgrimage we trace, 
Led and preserved by God's eternal grace ; 
In ev'ry change and circumstance is seen, 
The wonder-working pow'r behind the scene ; 
Cast down, 'tis true, but never in despair — ^ 

Whene'er decoy' d within the demon's lair, > 

There God, the mighty God, His arm laid bare. J 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 107 

Follow the chosen and afflicted band, 
Throughout their sojourn in a desert land, 
Each step they took pronounc'd them strangers there, 
Tho' ev'ry step evinc'd a Father's care ; 
By Babel's waters listen to their cry, 
The drooping willows caught the sympathy ; 
To rouse the sad remembrance of their wrongs, 
Their victors cried, " Come, sing us Zion's songs;' 
The chast'nings of the wayward children prove, 
The tender yearnings of a Father's love, 
Those nations chosen to be Israel's scourge, 
Clos'd all their triumphs with a mournful dirge : 
But with the Head compar'd, the King of kings, 
How light appear the members' sufferings ; 
He, as an alien, friendless, and forlorn, 
His only greetings were disdain and scorn, 
Without a home to rest His wearied head, 
Till on the cross He cried — " Tis finished." 
When God the Saviour paid the ransom due, 
All nature shrunk with horror at the view, 
Enshrouded from His God, He vainly cried, 
When the curs' d victim bow'd His head, and died : 
And were the servants greater than their Lord, 
Their lives more tranquilliz'd, or less abhorr'd ? 
In tears they sow'd ; but did they sorrowing reap ? 
How clos'd their day ? " in Jesus fell asleep." 
Proud Latium, thou hast visited, I ween, 
By pale moonlight the Coliseum seen ; 



108 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Here let imagination flap her wing, 

And mem'ry's muse her dirge and paean sing ; 

Fancy the vanquish'd gladiator's end, 

No sympathy awaits him, nor a friend, 

His dizzy eye just views th' unmingled scorn, 

As thro' th' arena heedlessly he's drawn, 

While to his deaf'ning ear loud shouts proclaim, 

That life must close in infamy and shame ! 

If there a hope remains, it is to die, 

And in oblivion with his victims lie ! 

Ah ! what a contrast to the martyr'd host, 

These acclamations were their joy and boast ; 

" Ferocious beasts, no more your work defer, 

" Be to this flesh corrupt a sepulchre, 

" Speed, speed my spirit to its native skies, 

" To gain th' eternal and unfading prize." 

What to the wrestler rung an heart-felt knell, 

Spoke to these flitt'ring souls, " fear not — 'tis well." 

Now all is still, and o'er these tott'ring walls, 

As heretofore the gentle moonbeam falls : 

Reader, can aught more forcibly define 

The contrast 'twixt eternity and time ? 

Those spirits which evinc'd a savage glee 

Are silent ! sw r ept into eternity ; 

The midnight zephyr thro' the ruin sighs, 

Waking the conscience from a false disguise, 

While yon fair orb her usual course pursues, 

Which silently records eternal truths. 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 109 

Start not when I affirm, both you and I 

Must as the saint or gladiator die, 

The world has never chang'd its livid hue, 

And that same path is known which martyrs knew, 

That consolation found in death's dark vale, 

When life has closed her false and flattering tale — 

" Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 

" I serv'd my king !" but ah ! to whom appeal ? 

The shatter' d bark may ride the billowy wave, 

But fallen man seeks refuge in the grave. 

Pilgrims who daily cross the broad high road, 
Too oft, alas ! lose sight of their abode, 
Diverging from the path, they join the crowd, 
And act 'gainst principles they once avow'd : 
Ah ! 'tis a lamentable thing to see 
The Christian and profane in amity ; 
The worldling, if he would, can ne'er disguise, 
His highest principles are bas'd on lies — 
" With publicans and sinners Christ was seen, 
" Why, then, will you indulge monastic spleen ? 
" Besides, your talents, rank, and consequence, 
" Should never be conceal'd from men of sense, 
" Religion surely was alone design' d 
" To love and cherish, not to hate mankind ; 
i4 In harmless pursuits why not intermix, 
" And merely against vice your limits fix, 
" And by your charity and suppliance win 
<; Those who are sunk in gross and deadly sin." 



110 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Thus Satan leads by ev'ry subtle plan, 

Till conscience rous'd, exclaims, " thou art the man ! ' 

Expediency, alas ! doth e'er expose 

The Christian to a multitude of foes, 

Instead of trusting to th' unerring word, 

With sole dependence on the Spirit's sword, 

We join some fav'rite measure of our own, 

To raise a seed which God has never sown ; 

To show the world what Christian pleasures are, 

We leave behind our guide and morning star, 

And dipping once our wings in humid skies, 

Their feathers droop, and ne'er attempt to rise ; 

The great Physician has Himself prescrib'd, 

In His pure word the remedy's describ'd, 

How dare ye mingle then some base alloy, 

To suit the vicious palate, thus destroy 

The good effects the medicine might give, 

The label simply says " believe and live;" 

'Tis not an Abana or Pharpar's stream, 

But only Jordan that can wash thee clean ; 

As to the vehicle, use what you will, 

For Paul, in sundry ways, display'd his skill : 

What says the world of one who tries to please, 

Who dares not interrupt their fancied ease ? 

" This man can be agreeable enough, 

" When with us he conceals his wretched stuff, 

" Else, what an hypocrite this saint must be, 

" To think and act so inconsistently." 



! 



THE SONG OF PEACE. Ill 

If this should ever reach a wav'rer's eye, 
For him I feel a brother's sympathy ; 
When the Omnipotent His love display'd, 
From sin He drew me, to the cross convey' d : 
How can I e'er forget those halcyon days, 
Absorb'd in love, in gratitude, and praise ; 
With little knowledge of the human heart, 
When sin arose, I seldom said, " depart !" 
Neglecting ofttimes watchfulness and prayer- 
No time was lost, for Satan soon was there, 
Who stole away my peace, and left despair. 
The Sun obscur'd, my route I'd ne'er retrace, 
With deep humility I give it place, 
To save, perchance, a Christian brother's loss, 
If Satan dare to tempt him from the cross. 
When Christ appear' d as Prophet, Priest, and King 
On Tabor's Mount, the news to Heav'n takes wing ; 
The fervent Peter sees the glory shine 
Round Him whom God acknowledges divine. 
This Peter who declar'd with latest breath, 
He'd follow Christ to prison or to death, 
The Lord of glory with an oath denied, 
When, by a servant-maid, was call'd aside. 
It may be said, you surely may confess, 
Some paths are more expos'd, and others less ; 
'Tis not the path which makes the arduous task, 
But in temptation you assume a mask, 



112 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Wishing to show a less offensive face — 

You yield in what is thought a dubious case ; 

Whereas if faith alone you kept in view, 

No power could prove the promises untrue. 

Where tyranny usurp'd gigantic force, 

Destroying all that would arrest its course ; 

Where art was valued only as 'twere shown, 

To trace out ev'ry vice, when fully blown ; 

Where none could pass the sombre Gondolier, 

Without some horror striking on the ear — 

The well-known Bridge of Sighs how oft has borne 

The falt'ring step, ah ! never to return ! — 

True, these mysterious crimes are known no more, 

But does not vice stalk wanton as before ? 

A den of Satan ! yet e'en here is found 

A light which seems to pierce the gloom around ; 

Here, even here, is brilliantly displayed, 

That love which speaks a supernat'ral aid, 

Tho' duty has prescrib'd a public sphere, 

A living faith confirms that God is near — 

The pathway, tho' beset by ev'ry snare, 

Is trod secure, thro' watchfulness and prayer ; 

And this is not a solitary case, 

Where God displays His all-sufficient grace ; 

No, I have found in Baca's barren plain 

Pools ever fill'd with Heav'n's refreshing rain. 

I love to gaze upon yon Alpine scene, 
With mountains cloth' d in their autumnal green ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 113 

There, as the glorious orb his course pursues, 

He flings behind him still more beauteous hues, 

While o'er the summit rests eternal snow, 

And Chillon's imag'd on the lake below. 

Hark ! 'tis a bell from yonder antique spire, 

Which seems to ask me, — whom dost thou admire *? 

Ah ! yes, it is my Father I adore ; 

My joys are now complete — what need I more ? 

Within that dungeon wall I hear the sound 

Of rattling chains in which some captive's bound ; 

Surrounded by these beauties — can he too, 

Enjoy, thro' bolted bars, th' enchanting view? 

With broken heart he sickens at the sight, 

Disgusted turns away, and sighs for night. 

But Satan's dungeon is more grievous still — 

The sinner — man — lies fetter'd at his will, 

Nor day, nor night, he leaves him in repose, 

But in the purest goblet, poison throws. 

Ask the gay worlding, did he e'er enjoy 

The fleetest hour without some base alloy ? 

" One half my kingdom I would freely give 

" To insure a perfect pleasure whilst I live.' 7 

Ask the philosopher if he possess 

True peace ? impossible, he must confess : 

The moralist, alas ! will heave a sigh, 

Exclaiming, " soon 'tis past, and I shall die !" 

But the believer breathes with joy divine, 

" All that the Father hath will soon be mine." 



114 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

I fear no sorrows, foes, nor secret plot, 
For none can find me where my God is not. 
In Israel's dwellings light shone bright around, 
When dreadful darkness dwelt on Egypt's ground. 
The world detests and loathes the very sight, 
Because their deeds are evil, hate the light — 
Lull'd by their fav'rite sin, they even dare 
Commiserate those who breathe this vital air : 
Could such an one exist an hour above, 
Where God is perfect light, and perfect love ? 
The Christian's only joy and heart's desire, 
Would be to him an everlasting fire. 
The tender mother loves her darling child ; 
With ev'ry other wish, and thought exil'd, 
In sickness only lives to give him ease, 
In health her only pleasure is to please ; 
This fond solicitude which she bestows 
To those devoid of ties, but folly shews; 
Her answer is, " my love is center'd here — 
" How dark, if absent, would this world appear." 
An Heathen Poet sung, and none deny, 
" The mind's ne'er chang'd by travel, only sky." 
Ye groups who leave in search of pleasure — home, 
For wild Helvetia, and for classic Rome ; 
There go, and view the damp, and dreary cell, 
Whence Paul address'd his eloquent farewell ; 
Read his epistle which was written there, 
And all your fancied joys with his compare : 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 115 

Ah ! dreadful slavery, — dear reader pause — 
The Heathen knew th' effect, but not the cause. 
If conscious of th' encircling dungeon wall, 
Ask, and receive the freedom of Saint Paul. 

Oh ! with what anguish have I seen the hearse, 
Bearing along the first fruits of the curse ; 
But once the shell is number'd with the dead, 
How sweet to contemplate the spirit fled ! 
The flesh I leave a banquet for the worm, 
" For, dust thou art, to dust shalt thou return." 
This curse fulfill'd, I love to realize, 
To view the humbling truth without disguise ; 
With joy I ponder o'er the sacred page — 
It heals my wounds, and doth my griefs assuage : 
For here the faithful promises record, 
That all who sleep in Christ are with the Lord. 
'Tis pain to see the mourners o'er the grave, 
With scarce a thought beyond death's rolling wave; 
Could they the spirit to its home pursue, 
What their dismay to find the Gospel true !— 
Content to foster some false transient hope, 
Which they discern thro' Satan's telescope ; 
That God is merciful their daily theme, 
And thus they dare annul His glorious scheme. 
In former times to chase the tear away, 
Art was employ'dt' embalm the mortal clay; 
Now, the high sculptur'd monument is rear'd, 
That still the much-lov'd name may be rever'd ; 

Q 



116 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

With titles, honors, it will proudly teem — 
Not what they are, but what they once have been ! 
Within the cemetery I have staid, 
To see the sorrowing mourners' tribute paid — 
One will the eglantine in fancy train, 
In prayer another's lost, alas ! more vain ; 
Here rise sweet emblems, evergreen, and rose, 
And weeping willows shade th' unutter'd woes ; 
The verdant turf with tears is ever fed ; 
Yet 'tis the dead still ling'ring with the dead. 
The truth I dread to urge, lest I may grieve 
One soul, yet better than that soul deceive : 
Each Adam's son, the Scriptures plainly tell, 
Is heir of Heav'n, or else a child of Hell ; 
One or the other Spirit all portray, 
Satan, or God, is stamp'd on mortal clay ; 
Throughout this labyrinth that each hath trod, 
Mammon is follow'd, or the living God. 
A strict morality we often find 
Is urg'd by this Arch Fiend, by way of blind ; 
Kindness and charity are God's command 
Saith he, and adds, what more would you demand ? 
These qualities are precious, all agree, 
As far as they regard society ; 
But greater enmity may yet remain 
Here, than with him who knows not virtue's name. 
Honor, for instance, what doth it express, 
That e'er is found in paths of holiness ? 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 117 

If self is wrong* d, how must the matter end ? 

For honor's sake you'd sacrifice your friend. 

Adultery is a word quite obsolete, 

'Tis gallantry, and makes the man complete. 

Pay sharpers, but your honest debts refuse, , 

The world may pity, but will ne'er abuse. 

Let me but ask this Christian in a word, 

If, save in oath, God's name is ever heard ; 

The heathen shames him who desir'd his slave, 

When thoughtless, to remind him of the grave. 

" But what analogy d'ye think to draw, 

" With those who reverence God's holy law ?" 

Remember he who's conscious of the fact, 

Suffers alike with him who did the act ; 

Therefore, if I your character would know, 

Who are your friends I ask ? and that will show — 

All travelling one great road, you may suppose, 

Are journeying to the place to which it goes. 

True, each may have his own peculiar mode, 

Yet, each is hastening to the same abode. 

Within the rebel's camp, whate'er can bring 

The man who loves his country, or his king, 

Unless to execute his master's will, 

And save, if possible, some rebel still ? 

Down life's dark stream, what joy can ever flow, 

When all around breathes wretchedness and woe ? 

If this want further proof, or clearer sign, 

I would appeal to arts for murd'ring time. 



118 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

Sin has brought death and misery on all 
Which God pronounced good, before the fall ; 
Who enter' d on life's stage without a cry, 
Which ever haunts his pathway till he die ? 
What reptile is exempt on drawing breath, 
Plodding thro' pain his weary way to death ? 
The ground, without man's toil, what doth it yield ? 
Cast but a glance on yon neglected field : 
The vine, that it may burst with juicy fruit, 
The dresser prunes and twines, for fear the root, 
Growing luxuriant in its native mould, 
Might throw out only wood, when growing old ; 
E'en winds and waves assume a fearful force, 
Turn'd but an instant from their usual course, 
Thus earth and all inhabiting within, 
Feel, tho' how few deplore, the curse of sin. 
As thro' the wilderness we onwards rove, 
Each hour exhibits proofs of Jesu's love, 
If truly pressing on, our Father's smile 
Cheers the rough path, and will our cares beguile, 
Bestrewing here and there some fragrant flow'r, 
To weave around our temporary bow'r ; 
And when the dreary vale appears in view, 
Which Adam's offspring, all, must traverse thro', 
Tho' dark and chilly, yet we fear no ill, 
For Christ our rod and staff is with us still, 
While Canaan's blissful shores before us lie, 
Beheld thro' precious faith's unerring eye ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 110 

Thus ev'ry saint exultingly will sing. 

" Grave, where's thy victory — and Death thy sting ?" 

The ship-wreck' d mariner, when cast ashore, 
Hears, undismay'd, the billows boist'rous roar, 
Yet, when he views his shipmates in the storm, 
His safety he forgets, and feels forlorn, 
As ev'ry breaker sweeps across the deck, 
He dreads the sight, lest he behold a wreck : 
One rescued from the pest-house heaves a sigh 
To see his fellow man remorseless lie, 
To see that his attempts to extricate, 
Embitter, seldom mitigate his fate ; 
Thus, when the soul's embued with love divine, 
Throughout his sphere that love will ever shine, 
Xot self-reflecting, but that each may see 
His state by nature, and his enmity ; 
Then if the danger's seen, and cause alarm, 
This love will manifest the sov'reign balm. 
Oh ! precious love, our Saviour's last bequest, 
'Tis He that plants it in the Christian's breast, 
Devoid of worldly interest or tie, 
See the close union form'd by charity ; 
There needs no subtle argument to prove 
Our faith is founded on eternal love : 
Oh ! precious love, yet here, how little known — 
Planted 'tis true, but only once hath blown, 
In this dark valley it can never thrive ; 
Thanks be to God who keeps it just alive, 



120 THE SONG OF PEACE. 

No gift of tongues I ask, nor prophecy, 

Nor wisdom to discern each mystery ; 

No : Heav'n-born love, for thee alone I pray, 

It sooths my heart and smooths the roughest way, 

It spreads an int'rest o'er each dying soul, 

No enmity can quench, nor pow'r control, 

And when pure faith, and hope are swallow'd up. 

Love, only love, shall fill th' eternal cup ! 

Yes, Christ will come in glory to restore 

A fallen world more perfect than before ; 

He, who in lowly Bethlehem was born, 

A Nazarite, an outcast, and a scorn ; 

He, who at Calvary was crucified, 

And with transgressors did the grave divide ; 

This Man of sorrows will descend again, 

Not as a malefactor, but to reign — 

Then ev'ry knee shall bow, and tongue confess, 

That He is Lord, and King of righteousness. 

Then Satan chain'd, with ev'ry passion fled, 

No further lamentation for the dead ; 

Sighing and sorrow are for ever gone, 

The Maker's image hath on mortal shone; 

All wish t' anticipate their Brother's claim, 

An Heav'nly love rekindles into flame. 

The wolf and lamb, together will be found, 

The kid no more will dread the leopard's sound ; 

The calf and tiger's whelp in peace will feed, 

So docile that a suckling child may lead ; 



THE SONG OF PEACE. 



121 



The lowing herd be seen to pasture near 
The savage bear, without alarm or fear ; 
The lion with the ox will feed on hay, 
Their young in harmless innocency play. 
The knowledge of the Lord on earth shall be 
As waters cover the expanse of sea : 
The Heav'ns no more withhold the freshing dew, 
The fading flow'r preserves its beauteous hue ; 
The ground now yields her increase, and the vine 
In clust'ring grapes around will ever twine. 
In one grand chorus all creation sing, ^ 

The love, the pow"r, and wisdom of their King, > 
And Heav'ns high arch in harmony doth ring. J 
Oh ! wish'd-for hour, when time's last sand is run, 
Nor measur'd more, eternity begun ; 
No Sun to rule by day, nor Moon by night, 
The Lamb of G-od reflects a glorious light; 
The curse remov'd, when ev'ry saint is shod, 
To tread secure the city of his God. 
Blessed are they who on their foreheads bear 
His name, their title to an entrance there, 
Beneath the Tree of life in grateful shade, 
They ever praise Him for the ransom paid. 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 



BY LOUIS RACINE. 



Cranslatetr front tf)e ^rencf). 



After this I beheld, and lo, a great multitude, which no man 
could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and 
tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with 
white robes, and palms in their hands; and cried with a loud 
voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, 
and unto the Lamb, — Rev. vii. 9, 10. 



CANTO I. 

An enemy to fiction and to lies, 
Which dress their lovers in deformities, 
Truth's piercing ray shall ever gild my page, 
And ope her pathway to a doubting age ; 
To follow Prosper' s steps I even dare, 
And lay, like him, each vicious practice bare. 

Thou fond enthusiast of the muse profane, 
To cherish and to fan seduction's flame, 
On this chaste picture cast no wanton eye, 
My verse would cause thee ennui, therefore fly ; 
Sounds such as these to thine abandon' d race, 
In jarring discord fall — I sing of Grace. 

True wisdom rests on this eternal rock, 
Folly to Greeks, to Jews a stumbling-block, 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 123 

Pride 'will with impudence and force oppose, 
God's champions scarcely dare His arms disclose, 
Content to mourn, before their weeping eyes 
The foe will triumph, and the truth despise ; 
They, o'er the day when sin brought death, bewail. 
Which drew 'twixtheav'n and man th' accursed veil, 
But threatening times announce approaching woe, 
'Tis not enough that only tears should flow, 
If o'er the prophet, fear usurps its sway, 
May zeal reanimate the poet's lay. 

Yes, Lord, Thy grace will give me pow'r to fight — 
Each saint's a soldier, to defend Thy right ; 
If, by Thy grace, I combat for thy grace, 
"What can arrest my course, or song deface ? 
The libertine may stigmatize and blame, 
In such a cause I glory in my shame ; 
Eender me worthy by Thy bounty, Lord, 
To bear Thy cross, mine honor and reward, 
For this Thy saints continually do cry, 
Like them I wish to live, like them to die : 
Accept my efforts, and support my zeal, 
I haste to combat, tho' unequal feel. 

Of grace I sing, whence sprung that wondrous 
flood, 
W T hich cleans'd where e'er it roll'd — the Saviour's 

blood ; 
Thy Son, great God, the centre of Thy love 
Conveys to man the peace-branch from above ; 

R 



124 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Thy cause to justify — direct my song, 
Oh ! warm my heart, and animate my tongue, 
Guide not my hand alone to sweep the lyre, 
But grant me the full influence of Thy fire, 
Not as the man who knoweth well the way, 
But unregenerate, goes far astray — 
Plenty of light, of charity quite bare, 
All ardent in dispute, but cold in pray'r. 

The world no sooner hears Jehovah's voice 
Than all creation rises to rejoice ; 
The glorious orb his order'd course pursues, 
Nor raging waves their limits dare abuse, 
The feather'd songsters join in artless lays, 
To warble forth their great Creator's praise, 
But wanting yet a sov' reign to control — 
God said, " let us make man, a living soul ;" 
He breath'd into his nostrils form'd of clay, 
The perfect work arose, and own'd His sway. 
Nature attentive to her Lord's demand, 
Pours forth a cornucopia from her hand, 
And all the universe at once conspire, 
T' anticipate their Sovereign's desire ! 
No hunger, thirst, fatigue, nor malady 
Could for a moment his repose deny, 
That structure rais'd by the Almighty breath, 
Bid full defiance to the tyrant, Death. 
From childish ignorance he alone was free, 
No fleshly lust could cramp his liberty ; 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 125 

Order reign'd paramount with one accord — ■ 
The animal fear'd man, and man his Lord. 
The body now in purity array'd, 
Prov'd to the soul a beauteous, faithful, aid, 
Surrounded and allur'd by ev'ry charm, 
Adam's abandon'd, yet without alarm, 
Perfect in strength, and all his actions just- 
He might have liv'd, still ignorant of lust : 
Sustained however by eternal pow'r, 
Which led him to Jehovah ev'ry hour ; 
Yet 'twas not grace determin'd each device, 
His soul till now had known but Paradise : 
Adam had pow'r to foster or resign, 
Whene'er he pleas'd, these blessed aids divine ; 
As when the Sun proclaims approaching day, 
We may exclude, or hail, its piercing ray: 
Tho' independent of this Heav'nly light, 
Without the glorious orb, in vain were sight. 
Such was man's innocence — each Adam's son 
Might still have held the title thus begun : 
Life's blossoms had not open'd with a tear, 
Nor aught occasion for the mournful bier — 
The trembling mother had been freed from cares, 
To save the little wanderer from snares, 
To guard her tender charge 'gainst wintry skies, 
To check the sins which constantly arise ; 
The deadliest weapon Satan e'er could wield, 
Would harmless fall before this temper'd shield. 



126 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

'Twere vain to sigh o'er bliss already flown, 

Or stop to trace a scene now past and gone : 

But, can we in the pit fall, vast and deep, 

Where Adam left us, ever cease to weep ? 

Destin'd to labour, and to death condemn'd, 

A dreadful curse! yet this we might have stemm'd; 

Our spirits subject to a tyrant sway, 

Must languish in the shell, as slaves obey, 

By error and deceit at once enveil'd — 

Robb'd of that glorious dawn our parents hail'd. 

Nature solicitous to serve and please, 

Loathes and deserts us, tainted with disease ; 

This once luxuriant, now accurs'd earth, 

Bereft of toil, is barrenness and dearth ; 

Deep in her side rich treasures lie conceal'd, 

By art and industry alone reveal'd. 

Creation's lord now dreads the very worm, 

Who can his ev'ry hope, to sorrow turn ; 

We bring into the world thro' base desire, 

The wretched heirs of a degraded sire. 

The child no sooner born, than telling lies, 

Without restraint would virtuous deeds despise. 

Enlighten' d tho' by science and by time, 

Can he one feature of his God define ? 

When to her husband Eve the apple gave, 

His freedom vanish' d, and he stood a slave ; 

His blood then rushing tainted thro' the veins, 

Imbued his offspring with these guilty stains ; 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 127 

A tree decay'd puts forth no vernal green, 

A source impure infects the flowing stream ; 

Say, was there yet a child of Adam born, 

Divest of ancestorial deform ? 

How love for this world's shadows fills the space, 

Where once effulgent shone Jehovah's grace ; 

Oh ! how deplorable, in such a state, 

To see him adding to th' o'erwhelming weight : 

Pleas'd with his malady, he spurns the cure, 

Enjoys his dungeon, dreary and impure : 

Who would believe his once fair origin ? 

Bears he on birth the countenance divine ? 

No doubt the portrait is not quite eras'd, 

Some touches of the pencil still are trac'd ; 

Tho' sunk, and nigh obscur'd, in errror's night, 

A gleam of glory proves that all was bright, 

He, as a sov'reign from his kingdom hurl'd, 

Still bears the vestige of a spotless world, 

To him a secret voice each hour replies, 

Thine home is far away, 'tis in the skies, 

Thy spirit sickens at the earth-born state, 

Where ills intrude, and pleasures satiate. 

Of joys celestial, only known by name, 

Tho' fraught with means, he empty doth remain — 

To vanity's false shrine he will perform 

His vows, tho' conscious of perfection shorn. 

Whence comes this grandeur? whence this littleness ? 

Why so much power, and yet such feebleness ? 



128 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Mortals absorb 'd in lethargy, awake. 

And know your loss, the greatness of the stake ! 

To sublunary joys, behold a bar, 

How long am I with self to be at war ? 

Who will deliver from my fell disease ? 

Which doth my life-blood in its channels freeze ; 

How contrary acts my wilful heart, 

Seeks what it hates, and shuns the better part ; 

I would from out this dreadful gulf escape — 

I would, but not a step my will can take ; 

Light, and irresolute, uncertain, blind, 

With pride inflated, tho' a babe defin'd, 

My will would undertake, but doeth nought, 

Pow'rless of good, with ev'ry evil fraught — 

My guide thro' devious paths which I detest, 

Receiv'd, tho' known to be a dangerous guest : 

Proud man would now implicitly confide 

In wayward will, his only light and guide. 

Heav'n suffer'd long such vaunters to proceed, 

And prove their wisdom but a broken reed : 

Both high and low had liberty to choose 

What they desir'd, and what they would refuse. 

The flood-gates to their will were open thrown ; 

Soon vice was seen install'd, and virtue flown. 

Murder and rapine with each loathsome crime, 

Compos'd the sacrifice at Satan's shrine ; 

Creation's lord transform'd it to abuse, 

And worshipp'd that once granted to his use : 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 129 

Beasts had their altars, stone was e'en implor'd — 
Form'd by God's mandate, yet as God ador'd ; 
Idolatry was sanction' d by the sage, 
And found extoll'd in ev'ry heathen page. 

But Greece had many Platos you must own, 
Asia her Thales, Cato grac'd a Borne, 
Lucre tia's life was nothing to her name, 
And Decius sought alone his country's fame, 
While Begulus despis'd his foes device, 
And rather gave his life than false advice — 
Condemn' d by Heathens in an age profane ! 
Outstripp'd in virtuous deeds ! Oh ! Christian 5 

shame ! 
Yet call not actions virtuous, and sincere, 
Which God ne'er cleans'd, nor taught us to revere; 
Borne' s boasted virtues were a false pretence, 
They, vain themselves, brought empty recompence ; 
Her heroes' splendour may seduce and please, 
But who hath gather' d fruit from barren trees '? 
Can sweet and bitter from one fountain, flow ? 
Man wastes the seed, unless with God he sow, 
'Twixt death and life there lies no middle road, 
Each must serve mammon, or the living Lord ; 
Nothing can prosper on an arid waste, 
A thirst for fame made Socrates so chaste ; 
Why were the Catos and the Caesars brave ? 
Applause they sought from e'en the vilest slave; 



130 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Let us o'er these benighted souls bewail, 
That they 'mongst others only seemed less frail : 
Jehovah's attributes were clearest shown 
By Socrates, and yet how little known ! 
To see Him must we pierce etherial skies ? 
When nature's fairest charms the savage eyes, 
Struck with astonishment, dare he advance 
That wondrous work to be a work of chance ? 
See yonder worm, methinks I hear its voice, 
" God made me, and thro' God I now rejoice." 
All bow to reason, and will grant applause, 
Not to a Father, but the great First Cause ; 
But God hath said, to love is to adore — 
The homage of the heart I ask no more ; 
Philosophers in vain divide each ray, 
They cannot see therewith the narrow way ; 
Do they in nature's works the Maker trace ? 
Ah ! better they had been of meaner race, 
Of grace bereft, good fruit they cannot boast, 
Led by false lights, in labyrinths are lost ; 
On various wayward routes, they all are gone, 
Each thinks that he is right, the rest all wrong ; 
Reason obscur'd, the truth, however plain, 
Is thro' their windings sought by them in vain. 
Ah ! Lord ! man's wisdom is a fleeting shade, 
Thro' Thee the substance to the soul's convey'd, 
He who usurps the title as his own, 
Dare he with it approach Thy spotless throne ? 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 131 

To heal our nature, 6ickly and infirm, 

To Sinai's steep and awful mount we turn ; 

But has the Jew been cleansed by the law ? 

If grace be absent, conscience shrinks with awe, 

And closer bound in Satan's grievous chains, 

The sin-led slave a greater slave remains, 

A letter working wrath, a galling yoke, 

An instrument of fear, each falling stroke ; 

The law proclaims aloud at ev'ry breath, 

Behold in me the messenger of death ; 

Moses, a servant, bore his Lord's decree, 

Till Christ, the Son, gave life and liberty ; 

Did the freed soul Elisha's wand obey, 

Already flown from its abode of clay ? 

No, o'er the Shunamite the prophet yearn'd, 

Then to the lifeless corpse the soul return'd. 

The Israelite who bore this servitude, 

To all his wand'rings join'd ingratitude, 

Tho' daily gifts were heap'd on Jacob's race, 

How did their enmity each grant deface ! 

Yet in this dispensation so obscure, 

A light was visible, 't was faint but pure, 

E'en souls, who knew nor law, nor gospel sound, 

In Christ's own precious family were found, 

For grace, when yet it made no full display, 

Shed here and there a purifying ray ; 

The wond'rous law of love was seen afar, 

Like the bright twinkling of a distant star, 



132 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

This form'd the theme of gratitude and song 
To ev'ry saint as ages roll'd along ; 
From them their father's crime for ever fled 
Thro' Jesu's blood, tho' subsequently shed, 
Their vital faith and strict obedience show'd 
The first-fruits of that blood which amply flow'd. 

Jehovah call'd these Israelites by name, 
The rest abandon' d, gloried in their shame ; 
God's oracles, the prophets, oft announc'd, 
Implor'd, wrought miracles, and threats pronounc'd ; 
A deadly veil sin plac'd before their eyes, 
They fell to murm'rings and idolatries,- 
Deaf to their prophets, faithless to their king, 
An heart uncircumcis'd did rebels bring ; 
From off God's altar true the incense rose, 
Could this, or blood of beasts, give aught repose? 
Were vows, vain incense, or the death-felt groan, 
For fallen man sufficient to atone ? 
True, priests and altars were the Lord's device, 
To shadow forth th' accepted sacrifice : 
Still it was needful that the law of stone 
Should be inscrib'd upon the heart alone, 
'T was needful Christ should bear th' appointed curse, 
And stand between th' avenging God and us ; 
Without this sacrifice the sinner's lost, 
Oh ! how immense the crime, when such the cost ! 
Behold, poor feeble man, thy helpless state, 
Which God's own blood must flow to expiate ! 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 133 

Man (like a traveller journeying on his way, 

Whom foes have robb'd and fill'd with sore dismay), 

Lies prostrate thro' his wounds without a friend, 

And bath'd in blood, anticipates his end ; 

The law stood witness to his misery, 

But could not help, or tell him where to flee, 

Till God, in mercy, turn'd to heal his woes, 

The clouds dispers'd, and Christ his day-star rose. 

Hail, Zion's daughters, ev'ry grief is past, 
Welcome a King, who brings you peace at last, 
While those beneath the law in prison barr'd, 
Confusion reap — transgression's just reward ! 
He comes, His saints will meet Him in the air, 
No tear will fall, nor whisper" d one despair ; 
By Jesu's blood the covenant was seal'd, 
As loving Father, God is now reveal' d ; 
Soon as th' acknowledged sacrifice was slain, 
Lo ! the mysterious veil was rent in tw^ain, 
Within this holy place there rests no more 
That which the Israelites were taught t' adore ; 
The temple of its majesty is shorn, 
And what remains — a synagogue forlorn ! 
Now 't was Jehovah's sovereign will t' impart 
His rightful homage issuing from the heart, 
Thus giving to His Son a perfect spouse, 
Absolv'd she stands of former slavish vows. 

Ye sons of Adam, burst the galling chain, 
And in that fountain cleanse your guilty stain ; 



134 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

The night is spent, behold the blessed morn, 

When all exclaim'd " To us a Saviour's born !" 

This day, tho' centuries did intervene, 

By faithful Abram was distinctly seen — 

Vision and prophecy did oft display, 

What we have hail'd, the dawning of that day. 

Come out from your captivity abhorr'd, 

Christ hath obtain'd your freedom and reward, 

He wills not that His sons should slaves remain, 

His love and grace have now commenc'd their reign. 



135 



THE SONG OF GRACE, 



CANTO II. 

Thou, to whom truth discloses love divine, 

Think not on earth to call it wholly thine, 

Nor hope to taste, as pilgrim, all its charms, 

But take thine helmet, buckle on thine arms, 

The church of Christ stands militant below, 

The cross her cradle, and the world her foe ; 

What pleas doth Satan ev'ry age afford, 

For kings and princes to unsheath their sword, 

Tho' oft in martyrdom her blood may flow, 

Her strength and vigour never cease to grow, 

He, faithful spouse, left heav'n's bright sphere and 

died, 
That she might rise triumphant by His side ; 
This purchas'd freedom did the Pagan claim, 
Show'd Caesar might adopt the Christian name, 
Apollo's priests their useless idols smash'd, 
Jupiter fled the capital abash'd ; 
The church scarce welcom'd peace within her breast, 
When heresy intruded as a guest, 



136 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

And o'er her charms bespread a chilling damp, 
For 't was an enemy within the camp ; 
Pelagius rose, and vainly dar'd debase, 
By foul attack, the soothing law of grace ; 
A rash defender of the human will, 
The pow'r to choose the good, and shun the ill ; 
How oft hath human wisdom, man deceiv'd, 
The doctrine then admir'd, is still believ'd ; 
Ah ! what avails a virtuous outside, 
If secret lurks the cankerworm of pride, 
The acrid poison well prepar'd at home, 
DifTus'd its baleful influence o'er Rome; 
Proud, learned, and austere, this anchorite 
Sought without sov'reign aid to gain the height, 
And by his deep research and master mind, 
Profess'd t' illuminate and lead mankind ; 
Jerome stood foremost in the battle field, 
Augustin follow'd and bore down his shield, 
Faith's banner soon this warrior unfurl' d, 
And planted it throughout the Christian world, 
Augustin' s name and doctrine were rever'd, 
When on th' horizon Molina appear'd, 
Who zealously oppos'd the sound Divine, 
And dar'd to break away the bound'ry line ; 
Prosper the truth did steadfastly embrace, 
And sweetly sung of God's free gift of grace, 
Pursuing errors to their putrid source, 
And there developing truth's beauteous course : 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 137 

While heresy abash'd, shrunk back alone, 

He rais'd pure faith triumphant to her throne. 

These Heav'n-born souls I fervently admire, 

And in their suite attempt to strike the lyre, 

Their writings and their maxims I rehearse, 

Reviving all their sentiments in verse ; 

Who can e'er celebrate Thy bounty, Lord, 

Save guests whom Thou hast summon'd to Thy board ? 

Tho' grace o'er nature's scene her charms expose, 

Man's vice and vanity his fall disclose, 

Our sore disease points to the healing stream, 

While Satan whispers, 'twill not make thee clean ; 

As angry clouds hang o'er the azure sky, 

In sickly shades of sin's dark night we lie, 

Our fickle hearts with vanity replete, 

Reject what is not garbl'd with deceit. 

Pleasure was first created pure, 'tis true, 

In innocency's fields alone it grew, 

'Twas lost ! or man had ne'er to dust return'd — 

With gratitude our spirits now had burn'd : 

Alas ! the soul had forfeited her power, 

And sensual pleasures deck our mortal bow'r, 

Now the chaste sentiment and holy joy, 

Need much to gain, but little to destroy ; 

To swell our mis'ry, and to view the blight 

O'er all our acts is Satan's chief delight, 

His rage to flattery he oft transforms, 

And coils thro' flow'rs producing all their thorns ; 



138 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

This cruel tyrant of the dread abyss, 

Did heretofore enjoy a perfect bliss. 

But from this pinnacle by pride was hurl'd — 

The self-same pride that ruin'd all the world. 

When our first parents like to God would be, 

And snatch'd the fruit from the forbidden tree, 

Pride from that hour possess'd the living soul, 

And o'er its will usurp'd entire control ; 

Oft to uplift us it destroys a lust, 

Or seems itself to be reduc'd to dust; 

Against free grace it fills us with disdain, 

And flatters to ensure a tranquil reign, 

Sanctions our independence and our right, 

For our best int'rest e'en pretends to fight, 

And that our liberty it dares instil, 

Is independent of God's so v 'reign will ; 

The monster spies out human feebleness, 

And ev'ry character can well address — 

Knows each condition, and how best t' apply 

Some soft illusion, and plain truth defy ; 

Around the coronet doth jewels fling, 

And thus consoles the throne-imprison' d King ; 

Conceals in glory from the Conqu'ror's view, 

The hardships, trials, dangers that ensue ; 

Gives to the courtezan fictitious ease, 

Who feels the arduous irksome task to please ; 

Of prelates rais'd to some high dignity, 

It whispers to the conscience, "you may flee;" 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 139 

It keeps alive the student's midnight lamp, 
(Yet oft o'er fav'rite pursuits throws a damp) ; 
More plausible than faith, can reason blind — 
Thus breathes a poison into ev'ry mind : 
From palaces it seeks the humble cot, 
And sours the peasant with his ill-starr'd lot ; 
It seeks to visit e'en the purest shrine, 
But ever's found at that of vice and crime. 
'Midst all our perils, all our just alarms, 
Grace can supply us with victorious arms ; 
Rage Demons, grace can ev'ry threat avert, 
Give pow'r to vanquish and to pass unhurt, 
Grace is the Christian's theme, a glorious sound, 
Guiding him safely to Emmanuel's ground, 
Grace, whose attractions shed such radiant hues, 
That once beheld, the will can ne'er refuse, 
Once having gain'd an influence o'er the soul, 
With ecstacy it presses to the goal ; 
While if ne'er seen or heard — how vain the race, 
Each step leads further from our resting place ; 
Our best intentions, and each effort fails, 
The purest sentiments, but idle tales. 
Man without grace is dead, but once it says, 
" Arise," that soul immediately obeys, 
Sin's bands are broken, obstacles remove — 
Oh ! what a miracle is Jesu's love ! 
Grace opes the harden' d heart, unscales the eyes, 
Then, only then, is seen the precious prize, 

T 



140 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Oh ! wondrous love ! no sooner entrance gains, 

Than former lusts are flown with all their stains ; 

Man's dignity and grandeur now displease — 

The world unmask' d, a Charlatan he sees, 

Replete with misery, with pains and fears, 

A theatre of griefs, remorse, and tears, 

He hastes away from empty pomp and noise, 

To taste in sweet repose eternal joys. 

Can Satan nullify this healing balm ? 

Can lust again allure, or beauty charm ? 

Still grace is so beset by foes around, 

That if she ever leave the conquer'd ground, 

Her triumph short, how soon th' infernal pow'rs 

Eegain the citadel and vaunt, " 'tis ours." 

Should grace omnipotent be once withdrawn, 

We of our strength and sure defence are shorn, 

Th' inveterate enemy we e'er must brave, 

A conqu'ring tyrant, or indocile slave : 

Continual war ! one foe no sooner falls, 

Then, lo ! a stranger rises and appals. 

All tend without to fan into a flame, 

The smould'ring fire of our corrupted frame, 

The world's attractions meet us ev'ry where, 

Its morals, taste, and commerce, prove a snare, 

Charm'd with its adulations and applause, 

Depresss'd, if e'er its flatt'ring smile withdraws. 

My perfect weakness shrinks from danger's hour, 
But perfect strength's in Christ, my refuge tow'r, 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 141 

Thither I love to flee, His grace t' implore, 

That daily He'd increase this precious store ; 

Jehovah, rich in gifts, can always grant, 

What sinners must demand for ev'ry want, 

When God conducts me, I advance in peace, 

If he retire, all strength and valour cease ; 

The anxious mother holds the little hands, 

If she withdraw, her babe no longer stands ; 

Our Father by abandonment would prove, 

That we are nought unless He deign to love ; 

David, a sovereign after God's own heart, 

When left to self soon chose the sinner's part, 

He, in the deep abyss was quickly found, 

Unconscious, from the vasty depth profound ; 

But Heav'enin boundless mercy Nathan sent, 

T' unmask his sin, and teach him to repent ; 

Soon as the prophet's voice had reach'd his ear, 

David the brave, was overwhelmed with fear, 

His wak'ning wounded conscience from within, 

Thro' anguish cried aloud, " how great my sin." 

Ah ! view the bold apostle's fearful fall, 

Who thought that he stood firmest of them all, 

To follow Christ to prison, or to die, 

He would all dangers readily defy, 

Yet to avoid the censure of a maid, 

These great professions in the dust were laid. 

His Lord's reproof (for now the cock had crow'd), 

Taught him with tears, the grievous debt he ow'd ; 



142 THE SONG OF GRACE, 

Yes, Peter once abandoned, how. he fell ! 

Perjur'd, ungrateful, traitor, meet for hell ! 

Still grace re-animates his soul again, 

The cross to bear, rejoicing in its shame. 

This fundamental doctrine you elude, 

Lest rashly you might err, and souls delude ; 

But grant your supposition — let it be 

That none of us are shackled, all are free, 

That we can ev'ry hour obey the law, 

Still you must own how wide remains the flaw ; 

If pow'r meet opposition in the will, 

The action unperform'd remaineth still ; 

That will by nature hates the virtuous deed, 

And cannot act till God supply the need : 

Agree with me, and end a vain dispute, 

Nor dare again this doctrine to refute ; 

That peace should be disturb'd by such device, 

Oh ! pow'r sufficient ! did it e'er suffice ? 

The wand'ring sheep who seeks no further aid, 

Can he return to the once peaceful glade, 

If the good shepherd care not to reclaim, 

And reconduct him to the fold again ? 

If to do good become my chief desire, 

Who but Jehovah could this wish inspire ? 

All in us is of God, whatever sprang 

On earth pronounc'd good, in Heav'en began ; 

Each holy movement of the heart is plain, 

To be of Him — disputing it is vain. 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 142 

God works in man His wishes and commands, 
And man returns the gift into His hands ; 
The saint from off his watch-tow'r may be thrown, 
But if he fall, the fault must be his own ; 
That man who formerly by grace was led, 
If he's abandoned, if the Spirit's fled, 
Hath not the pow'r to heave one bitter sigh 
Methinks 'tis said " This doctrine I deny — 
" Hath not the pow'r ? 'tis Jansenism pure, 
I* This hard expression I can ne'er endure, 
" "Who to Jehovah's law could then attain?" 
Without His grace 'twould be a work in vain ; 
Ah ! of all monstrous dogmas, this the worst, 
And by the Christian, truly judg'd accurst, 
Sufficient pow'r ! the jargon of the schools, 
Vain heresy, begone ! 'tis truth that rules : 
Yet stay, for love and peace we'll pass it o'er— 
I write to sooth, and not to cause a sore ; 
But you, transported by an ardent zeal, 
Do not, I fear, so charitably feel, 
For if a diff'rence, or a doubt arise, 
You cry aloud, ah ! dreadful heresies ! 
But what are all men's sentiments forsooth, 
Compar'd I ask you with the word of truth ? 
None but the heavy-laden, Christ address'd, 
" Come unto me and I will give thee rest," 
And adds, " without Me, all must be undone, 
" Except my Father draw, you cannot come:" 



144 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Whence springs this pride so foolishly conceiv'd, 
Possess we ought that has not been receiv'd ? 
The pray'r and blessing, grace at once combines, 
Offspring of light, and all our good designs — 
Grace gives the wish when sinners make request, 
And opes the heart that seeks Him for a guest, 
Perfects the vow, and in the soul that moans, 
The holy Spirit breathes th' unutter'd groans. 
Man in himself to evil is inclin'd, 
Frail as a reed that bends before the wind ; 
In God all live and grow — the child will cry, 
" My Father give me bread, or else I die ; " 
This loving Father will protect His charge, 
Unbolt the stocks, and set his feet at large, 
Will guide them in his path, tho' prone to err, 
Till safe enclos'd within the sepulchre. 
Oh ! potent truth, then ev'ry fear erase, 
On deep humility is founded grace. 

When grace hath broken pleasure's silken cords, 
She grants instead, a foretaste of her Lord's, 
Gives stimulus to act, removes the screen, 
To view what's loveable, to love what's seen : 
Grace thus usurps her empire, thron'd above, 
Compos'd of love, she draws with cords of love, 
All her commandments are receiv'd with glee, 
She only breathes to set the captive free — 
Inherent joys destroy all other charms, 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 145 

A conqu'ror lov'd by him whom he disarms, 

* * * ****** 

When left alone I feel the pow'r to err, 

What reason then to boast ! poor wanderer ! 

To grace, my soul in full assurance clings, 

Oh ! that I now possessed Thy dove-like wings, 

Then on my route no hindrance could arrest, 

I'd long to flee away, and be at rest ; 

There, a bewitching and a sweet restraint 

Falls imperceptibly o'er ev'ry saint, 

There, the fond heart, enchanted with its tie, 

Would shudder to possess full liberty, 

There, the vile body, thro' its earth's alloy, 

No longer renders void celestial joy, 

Enrich'd with gifts ne'er seen by human eye, 

Nought to demand — all, all is ecstacy ! 

No dread alarms can reach that sacred shore, 

No bitter tear can damp the eyelid more, 

There, there, is never heard the doleful sigh, 

All fears and futile hopes must ever die ; 

The church triumphant, and with glory crown'd, 

Fills heav'n with praise, the victors' songs resound ? 

While the church militant, like captive slaves, 

Is sever' d from her home by Jordan's waves ; 

Nigh Babel's gloomy stream we weeping stand, 

As hateful captives in a foreign land — 

How can we pilgrims, journeying along, 

Attempt to sing dear Zion's lovely song, 



146 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Our tuneless harps are on the willows hung, 
The rolling waves have silenc'd ev'ry tongue ; 
How long my exile ! shall I never see 
Jerusalem ? my wish'd eternity ; 
When shall I drink of the forgetful stream, 
When all my griefs be vanish' d into dream? 
Ah ! when shall I appear in bridal dress, 
And hail for ever Christ my Righteousness ? 
Oh ! gracious God, Thy promises illume 
The cold still vale of death's terrific gloom ; 
Sole author of my love, and pure desire, 
This heart retouch with Thy seraphic fire, 
That all in me may be entirely Thine, 
Thy work alone be seen, and none of mine, 
And that my recompence and crown may be 
Proportion'd to the love Thou deignedst me. 



147 



THE SONG OF GRACE, 



CANTO III. 

As lightning's vivid flash is seen to play, 
From east to west, then vanishes away, 
Swift as the arrow flies without a trace, 
So instantaneous is the work of grace ; 
When grace has struck the rebel to the ground, 
A saint arises, and heav'n's shouts resound ; 
The thunderbolt unseen, nor heard to roll, 
Enlightens, strikes, surrounds the chosen soul ; 
Ah ! dreadful spectacle ! when first illum'd, 
To view corruption's putrid mass entomb'd; 
But freed from bondage, quick the pris'ner flies, 
To breathe a vital air, in purer skies. 
Grace may be seen to cast her proffer' d boon, 
And reconduct the thoughtless wanderer home, 
At other times by devious paths arrives, 
And imperceptibly the soul revives ; 
To break the heart, e'en harder than the stone, 
Tho' varied be the plan, is all her own ; 
One blow deterr'd the persecutor Saul, 
Transform'd him to the bold apostle Paul, 



148 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Drew Magdalene away from vice untold, 

Zaccheus wrested from his idol gold. 

Ofttimes array 'd in such simplicity, 

It moves the heart admittance to deny, 

And sooner in its slavery to rest, 

Than liberty receive from such a guest. 

Ah ! wretched glory, pitiable case, 

When man dare balance earth, vile earth with grace, 

But grace is not subdued, nor will depart, 

Until it reaches the rebellious heart ; 

While some it agitates by deep remorse, 

It softens others by a gradual course, 

Tho' Satan's ev'ry obstacle appal, 

At last the conquer'd to the Conqu'ror fall ; 

So full of peace and holiness it reigns, 

Our hearts it captivates, our will constrains ; 

Grace leads our steps, on grace our merits stand, 

The gift and the reward go hand in hand ; 

As the Omnipotent Himself inspires, 

So in His agent ev'ry grace conspires ; 

Hear how Augustine yields to grace its force, 

And shows the fallacy of man's resource; 

" Avaunt ! all sophistry that dare elude, 

" The perfect freedom of its servitude, 

" Would'st thou, by systems or by subtle words, 

" Evade the mandate of the Lord of lords ? 

" Alas ! what grievous wounds are caus'd by pride, 

" From ev'ry just restraint we turn aside, 



THE SON(i OF GRACE. 149 

" Of self-sufficiency we vainly boast, 

" Reducing all to reason, soon are lost, 

" Thus we despoil of justice and of right, 

" God's throne, and place it on a to tt' ring height ; 

" What misery and chaos should we find, 

" If God gave liberty to all mankind ! 

" But the restraint of grace you will not bear, 

" Ah ! blest restraint, that softly cries, beware ! 

" Can we confide too much, or too much yield? 

" Where is our safety, save beneath His shield ? 

" On Him who lov'd us, all our cares are cast, 

" He guards us now, to crown us at the last; 

" Why then should we dispute with God our right? 

" What could defend it but Jehovah's might ? 

" To take His proffer' d arm you do not choose, 

" The supple clay could easier refuse 

" The potter's pow'r, than can the hardest heart, 

" When thus address'd, i My grace I will impart :' 

" Yes, for Thy grace, oh Lord, I daily wait, 

" My consolation for a future state, 

" Lead, and I follow, speak, and I obey, 

" Rejoice, when present, absent, and I stray, 

" Left to myself, conducted by caprice, 

" I blindly wander to the precipice, 

" My vices, which I hate, are all my own, 

" The virtues I possess, by Thee are sown, 

" In all my wand'rings I have none to blame, 

" Who, but a God, can erring souls reclaim? 



150 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

" My crimes are nail'd upon th' accursed tree, 

" If freed from some, all praise I owe to Thee ; 

" This heav'n-taught doctrine can with pow'r console, 

" And peace diffuse throughout my trembling soul ; 

" Faith may at first admit of fear and doubt, 

" But hope well founded puts them to the rout ; 

" Not all thy feeble efforts, true, it cries, 

" Would ever gain thee entrance to the skies, 

" Surrounded by a multitude of foes, 

" Who never leave thee till the awful close : 

" But Thou, Jehovah, as a Sire, canst claim, 

" Behold His glories enter 'd in his name ; 

" Take courage, then, a son is always dear, 

" A parent's love will banish ev'ry fear ; 

" The son believes the promise of his sire, 

" And faith, hope, charity, his soul inspire." 

Still do opposing sentiments exist, 
I mean the doctrine of the Moliniste ; 
Grace, he will say, is not to some confin'd, 
Take it, or not, as you may feel inclin'd, 
Subject to your control, caprice, desire, 
A friend in need, a slave if you require, 
God's instrument, thro' which the conquest's hail'd, 
To man the glory, once he hath prevail'd — 
An awful heresy, how long conceal'd, 
By Molina unhappily reveal' d. 
These vain delusions many thought sincere, 
And then condemn'd Augustine as austere — 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 151 

A soothing flattery to the human breast, 

Asserting what our Saviour ne'er express'd : 

" God never had a chosen fav'rite race, 

" He knows the child that will accept His grace, 

" God reads futurity, He sees the lot 

" Of all who will receive His love or not ; 

" Grace, like an ocean, rolls before our eyes, 

" To bear our little barks to fairer skies, 

" On setting sail, Jehovah guides the helm, 

" No storms can hurt, nor billows overwhelm/' 

In Spain these heresies were first pursued, 

Truth was nigh silenc'd, and the schools subdued, 

As the rash followers of this learned sage 

Had nearly proselyted half the age, 

The Pontiff an assembly now pro claim' d, 

Error was silenc'd, and the truth reclaim'd, 

For Lemos, a defender of the right, 

Prov'd that these meteors gave a treach'rous light, 

While Clement's mind, extensive and profound, 

This human doctrine did at once confound. 

**•****•£■»■& 

Tho' charity, th' anathema forbad, 
Fly from a wary wolf, so falsely clad, 
Pride, flatters reason into vain conceit, 
But never will suggest a safe retreat ; 
Can reason's eye unfold one Heav'nly scene, 
And faith dispense with, as the go between ? 



152 THE SONG OF GRACE, 

Can it, from mystery draw back the shroud, 
Seeking to penetrate th' eternal cloud ? 
This, only this, be ever my demand, 
Faith to believe, not pow'r to understand : 
What finite intellect can ought reveal, 
Of God's eternal word, or break the seal ? 
No, precious Lamb ! the pearl is hid in Thee, 
Not found afloat upon a troubled sea ; 
If grace became the obedient slave indeed, 
And always ready in a time of need, 
Who, that had ever heard the joyful news, 
Could at the last, this blest salvation lose ? 

A mortal finds at ev'ry step, alas ! 
Some grievous obstacle he cannot pass, 
His peace is soon replac'd by various ills, 
He loves, he languishes, he burns, he chills — 
His coldness, and his love, his grief, and joy, 
Eound an inconstant heart by turns deploy, 
His virtuous deeds, he eagerly pursues, 
Till in his path some golden apple views ; 
Ye independent and enlighten'd band, 
With all-sufficient grace at your command, 
This priv'lege shew before a fellow-worm, 
And let your direst foe, the lesson learn ; 
When sore vexations would your spirits tease, 
Exchange them for tranquillity and ease, 
Stifle these griefs and sorrows as they spring, 
Your vassals must obey their lawful King ; 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 153 

What ! helpless to avoid the slightest pain, 
Loud threats, and soft entreaties, all in vain ! 
Ah ! look within, see there your wretchedness, 
Seduc'd by pride, once banish'd, you'll confess, 
Man cannot claim aught wisdom, goodness, pow'r, 
But stands a weak, deserted, tott'ring tow'r ; 
Go, lie and supplicate at Jesu's feet, 
He hastes to give, when beggars will entreat, 
Seize on His gifts, and be in constant pray'r, 
Lest tempted by the foe within his lair ; 
Christ's love and patience you can ne'er exhaust, 
'Tis music to His ears, " a sinner lost." 
If grace continually the wish obey'd, 
What need of supplication, why afraid ? 
If we possess'd its salutary force, 
The wish at our command would come of course ; 
Oh ! tender church, why moan, thou turtle dove? 
How vain thy tears, thy sympathy, and love ! 
Ye ministers withdraw the outstretch' d arm, 
Dismiss anxiety, your spirits calm, 
Ye who would raise to God the constant sigh, 
At His eternal altar daily lie, 
Why think the pray'r without effect returns ? 
At your desire the heart with ardour burns ! 
Ye who can cure yourselves of sin's disease, 
Can do all this, yea more — yet not at ease ! 
Tho' ev'ry effort prove its weakness, still 
Blind ign'rance and pride the vacuum fill. 



154 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

If in this flatt'ring system you persist, 
That man can guide his actions as he list, 
And can an equilibrium preserve 
Between the good and ill, both prompt to serve, 
When duty calls him to adopt the first, 
In passions, would the latter, o'er him burst ? 
These passions flow so strong, and near between, 
Grace is redoubled, or it kicks the beam — 
The balance soon again, alas ! is lost, 
And Heav'n he supplicates to pay the cost, 
Thus he would drink of this world's guilty cup, 
And call on grace to pay the reck'ning up. 

Why does the captive who abhors his chain, 
At times regard his liberty with pain ? 
The phantoms he so ardently had sought, 
The sequel proves, how dearly they were bought, 
Now he must groan beneath the galling yoke, 
While strength decreases, and it's never broke, 
Th' encircling chain is even closer bound, 
And the sore burden weighs him to the ground. 
Our strenth'ning passions hastily disdain, 
To champ the bit, or answer to the rein, 
These wayward wills on ev'ry act are seal'd, 
Where grace the ulcer'd heart has never heal'd : 
Draw for a moment back the gloomy veil, 
And hearken to his lamentable tale. 
" Unhappy captive ! cease to suffer more, 
" Come, cure thyself, but ah ! regard the sore ! 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 155 

" From this base slavery I fain would tear, 

" Ye gods ! if e'er ye listen to despair, 

" If ye compassionate, or sympathise, 

" Then hear my pray'r — oh ! turn not from my cries, 

" Eelease me from beneath these scourging rods, 

" Depriving me of peace, ye mighty gods ; 

" My strength declines in vapours so impure, 

" Grant me, oh ! Heav'n, a full and perfect cure ; 

" I do not ask for that which I desire, 

" Extinguish only this consuming fire ; 

" Oh ! Heav'n, if I should merit aught of Thee, 

" Give me but peace, and with it liberty." 

Ovid as criminal his sins denounc'd, 
And all their lawful punishments pronounc'd, 
" I hate myself, such as I am at best, 
" Yet spite of self, I am what I detest, 
" Yea more, I cannot quit this wretched state, 
" How hard t' endure the burden which I hate." 
Medea basely yields, regrets his shame, 
Yet feels a transport conscience still must blame ; 
Phsedrus in death, with comfort sought to hail, 
The wreck and remnant of some virtue frail. 
From these philosophers we turn away, 
And leave them to their sad regrets a prey, 
To view how grace triumphantly can draw, 
The sinner from a self- conflicting war ; 
What, without God, is man, Augustine proves, 
And how Jehovah actuates whom He loves. 
x 



156 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

" From youth exuberant what crimes had sprung, 

" Whilst o'er a yawning precipice I hung, 

" How long I sought to fly from Thee, my God, 

" But step by step Thou follow'd'st with Thy rod, 

" For ev'ry dear and captivating lust 

" Embitter'd was to me, and caused disgust; 

" Thy thunders roll'd with terror o'er my head, 

" My mother's tears upon her child were shed, 

" I only heard the rattling of my chain, 

" Foul passions following in an awful train, 

" I heeded not my mother's bitter tears, 

" Thy warnings, too, they pass'd, and left no fears ; 

" The ardour for my pleasures sunk at last, 

" What horror struck me when I view'd the past, 

" I saw my way, was anxious to proceed, 

' { But deadly weights did ev'ry wish impede, 

" The precious pearl I found, and valued high, 

" But resolutions fail'd when I would buy ; 

" Thus, by two pow'rful rivals, I was torn, 

" And ev'ry combat left me more forlorn, 

" Jehovah's mercy follow'd me the while, 

" At last redeem'd me with a Father's smile : 

" What dreadful mis'ry ! what an hour was this ! 

" But soon was chang'd for one of endless bliss ; 

" In fev'rish sleep I pass'd a dreary night, 

" Awaking now and then, I search'd for light, 

" And when there did appear a feeble ray, 

" I clos'd my eyes, and dos'd the time away; 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 157 

%; Depart from this, a voice in mercy cried, 

u Yes, very soon, yes, quickly, I replied, 

" So strong the ties, so difficult to rend, 

" This very soon appear' d to have no end : 

" A joyous group around me garlands flung, 

" And as they danc'd, with Syren voices sung, 

" From all our proffer' d charms, what ! turn aside ? 

" Who else can fuel for thy lusts provide ? 

" The sage who sought us never did repent, 

" His body satisfied, his soul content, 

" Mortal, live happy, profit well the time, 

" And pleasure's wreaths around each sense entwine, 

" Virtue avoid, importunate and sad, 

" And seize these passing beauties richly clad, 

" Thine heart d'ye think could others love beside, 

" Thou who hast been with us so long allied ? 

" What ! to these soft illusions bid farewell ? 

"Ah! at the thought resounds thine own death's 

knell ; 
"But pure and lovely chastity drew nigh, 
" And ev'ry step bespoke her majesty ; 
" On seeing me, she pointed to her suite, 
" And thus, in smiling irony, did greet : 
" I call, thou loved'st me, but thou durst not come, 
" Feeble Augustine ! who could stop thee ? none : 
" What others do, canst thou not execute '? 
" Thy anxious wish yet stand'st irresolute — 
" Thy fetters thou would' st burst, why tranquil stay ? 
" D'ye place no limits to your erring way 1 



158 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

" Behold the faithful, rang'd on yonder height, 

" God gave them wings to speed their lofty flight ; 

" Then ask, and you shall have, tho' once oppos'd : 

" I know it, but alas ! my mouth is clos'd ; 

" I thought this weary war would never cease, 

" Sore doubts and terrors could no more increase, 

" When suddenly I heard a still small voice, 

" 'Tis I, fear not, go forward, and rejoice : 

" The scales dropp'd quickly from before mine eyes, 

" I saw my Saviour, and beheld my prize : 

" My soul to terrene scenes no longer bound, 

" In haste I turn'd from off the tainted ground, 

" My will was changed, all contrary to Thine 

" Displeas'd me, for Thy wish engender 'd mine. 

" My mother, nll'd with anguish and despair, 

" Yet, for this rebel, never ceas'd her pray'r ; 

" My tender mother liv'd to see the day — 

" Her pray'r was heard, her tears were wip'd away. 

" Ah ! blessed Lord, when Thou hast granted sight, 

" Thy way is smooth, Thy yoke and burden light, 

" The wilderness is cross'd with praise and song, 

" And pilgrims join on earth th' angelic throng ; 

" When once engrafted to the living Vine, 

" Our love, our glory, and our peace entwine, 

" And as the rich and blushing fruit, 

" With gratitude we hail the hidden root ; 

" How I, alas ! had dissipated youth, 

" Ere first I learn'd to realize this truth/' 



159 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 



CANTO IV. 

Prize thou, my soul, the graces which inspire, 
Touch with redoubl'd fervour Zion's lyre, 
The love arid majesty of God combine, 
And shew the height and depth of each design : 
His ways unsearchable, His thoughts unknown, 
On laws irrevocable stands His throne ; 
A God who sees the future, present, past, 
Whom He will punish, whom He'll crown at last- 
Not subject to the fast revolving ray, 
A day is as an age, an age a day, 
Follows the running streamlet thro' its course, 
Sees at a glance each winding end and source; 
What wondrous myst'ry ! who presumes to scan 
Thy ways, oh ! mighty God ! Ah ! what is man ? 
Thou God of truth, Thine orders I receive, 
Not to examine, but in faith believe ; 
Begone, all vaunted philosophic lore, 
I question not, but silently adore ! 
Thro' living faith to each veil'd promise cling. 
Ye trembling mortals, listen whilst I sing : 



160 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

God animates this mortal frame He made, 
And at a glance dispels the deadly shade, 
None other can relax the frozen soul, 
The gift and work are His, not part, but whole ; 
We owe Him ev'ry thing, He owes us nought, 
How pure His bounty, yet how little sought ! 
Whene'er we merit chastisement from God, 
With what impatience do we bear the rod. 
Have we our parent's fatal fall forgot, 
As thus to quarrel with our chosen lot ? 
Just indignation was our father's doom, 
Thro' him we now receive the fearful boon, 
To ev'ry crime his children are the heirs, 
His destiny alas ! is also theirs ; 
If for such sins the angels stand condemn'd, 
What from just punishment can man defend — 
If both revolt, what privilege have we, 
When justice will award its penalty "? 
Divested of all hope the angels fell 
Down the dread precipice enchain' d in hell ! 
Jehovah separates the human race, 
To one shews justice, to another grace ; 
Why grace to you, and justice then to me ? 
What, dare to fetter God's free liberty ! 
Who can divulge Jehovah's secret plan, 
Which wisdom, ever just, conceals from man ? 
If left abandon'd, could we dare complain ? 
From Him we turn with hatred and disdain ; 



THE SONG OF GRACE, 1.61 

God at his will elects, and draws aside, 

By free and sov'reign grace, His chosen bride ; 

His faithful love at ev'ry step's reveal'd, 

Enrob'd in white she stands, her forehead seal'd, 

To Canaan's promis'd land each child's an heir, 

Purchas'd by Christ, with Christ they'll ever share ; 

Christ, the all perfect, sinless sacrifice, 

Ordain' d from everlasting, gives the price — 

" Ye dear and little flock in peace repose, 

" Ye whom the Father to His Son bestows, 

" He is the guardian of His ransom'd band, 

" And Satan ne'er shall wrest them from His hand, 

" The lambs within His bosom He will bear, 

" And from his fond embrace no pow'r can tear." 

Th' adopted child His favours shall partake, 

Be sinless counted for the Saviour's sake, 

Vessel of honour, chosen and appro v'd, 

A son of promise, tenderly belov'd, 

While the Omnipotent from grace debars 

Another, left an ignominious vase ! 

Away, vain reas'ning and rebellious strife, 

God will permit our death, or give us life ; 

Ask not His secret counsels to record, 

Who of injustice dare accuse his Lord ? 

His one regard the purest object mars, 

His splendour dims the canopy of stars, 

Near to the glorious throne the cherubim 

Lies trembling, prostrate, cover'd with his wing : 



162 THE SONG OF GRACE, 

Audacious man, thy nothingness despise, 

Clouds are His throne, upon the winds He flies, 

At His command the raging wat'ry pile 

Falls harmlessly around the sea-girt isle, 

The thunders bear His orders from afar, 

The buoyant clouds are His triumphal car, 

He speaks the word, and mountains swell the plain, 

The sun pursues his course, and daily reign, 

Within His hand the universe He weighs, 

The counter scale it barely seems to raise, 

Our globe is as a grain before His eyes, 

He breathes, and agitating billows rise ! 

To His omnipotence all honour's due, 

But what from mortal homage can ensue ? 

Can He from us receive aught honour, praise ? 

He only can appreciate all His ways. 

What need hath He of us ? in tranquil peace 

He views our birth, our actions, and decease, 

He pardons, punishes, condemns, or crowns, 

By smiles He melts, and hardens by His frowns, 

If He will none of me, I fall and die, 

But if He loves, I live eternally ; 

His will is all supreme, He thus ordains, 

Justice is satisfied, tho' man complains ; 

At my condition should I dare repine, 

Tho' destitute of all, save death and crime ! 

What ! shall the vase unto its maker say, 

Why hast thou form'd me of this fragile clay ? 



THE SONG OF GRACE. ] 63 

One child in salutary water's lav'd, 

By death and sin another's left enslav'd ; 

Esau He loathes, in Jacob takes delight ! 

What was in Jacob pleasing to His sight ? 

Oh ! wondrous depths that none can e'er explore ! 

In silence, man, the great I AM adore. 

God, tho' unchangeable in His designs, 

Changes His mode and gifts at various times, 

Some whom He deigns to succour in distress, 

He leaves awhile in this dark wilderness : 

Faith's pure bright star which guides our little bark, 

If 'tis enclouded, all around is dark ; 

This best of boons which He in love hath giv'n, 

T' illuminate the path which leads to heav'n. 

How many nations where the sun once shone, 
Are now left desolate, their glory gone, 
Too deeply sunk to recognize their state — 
Let us, enlighten'd, dread their awful fate ; 
This precious torch of grace which we possess, 
Will be remov'd if look'd on valueless ; 
Where martyrs' blood enrich'd the holy land, 
Is now a desert, and a barren sand. 

Him who would proudly search, our God confounds, 
Strikes blind the trespasser beyond his bounds, 
Conceals His myst'ries from the learned sage, 
And seals before their eyes the sacred page ; 



164 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

But to the poor, the Spirit's mystic dove, 
Wafts the sweet influence of a Father's love, 
Shunning the mass of science misapplied, 
They look to God, their Saviour, Friend, and Guide. 
Oh ! Antoninus, hadst thou seen and heard — 
But Constantine ! to thee was sent the word ; 
Cato without a gleam in darkness laid, 
He grop'd for virtue, but embrac'd a shade ; 
How still more awful where the truth is known, 
And yet the human heart hath harder grown, 
Where all His gifts are look'd upon with scorn, 
'Twere better if that soul had ne'er been born ! 
Jerusalem ! ah ! hadst thou known thy peace, 
But now 'tis past ! thy privileges cease ! 
E'en Tyre and Sidon, all His words had kept, 
In sackcloth and in ashes would have wept ; 
When the dark morn of recompence is come, 
Daughter of Zion, what must be thy doom ! 
The rebel slave more stripes receiveth still, 
Than one who never heard his Master's will ; 
All, all must render an account at last ! 
And none can change the fatal die once cast. 

Look not behind, press forward, persevere, 
Work out your grace with trembling, and with fear, 
Fight the good fight of faith unto the end, 
That Christ the Judge, at last may call thee friend. 

The lonely monk in constant fasts and pray'r, 
Couch'd upon sackcloth, clad in camel's hair, 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 165 

One breath of pride, and all his deeds are loss, 
He bears his own, and not his Saviour's cross ; 
While the night-robber thro' a gleam of grace, 
Struck by remorse, arrests his heedless race, 
And ent'ring on the vineyard of his Lord, 
Tho' short his work, he gains a full reward. 
Sometimes by sudden force and love profound, 
Where sin abounded, grace will more abound, 
At others, she deserts her peaceful reign, 
And leaves the heart to tyranny again ; 
Empty and swept, within the demons burst, 
His final state's more wretched than the first ; 
'Tis the last blow that renders vict'ry sure, 
We must, to conquer, to the end endure ; 
Yes, we must run the race, and reach the throne 
Ere we can call the precious crown our own. 
Champions have fought on Zion's holy ground, 
And feeble saints have urg'd, with gospel sound, 
Zealous and firm defenders of the faith, 
And yet their lamps prov'd lack of oil at death. 
What sore regrets, the last call's echo ceas'd 
From one excluded from the marriage feast ! 
To hear a voice in sternness say, " depart !" 

And to another, " come, thou pure in heart." 

********* 

This treach'rous world, each moment brings a lure, 
Then make thy calling and election sure, 



166 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

Use means aright, and profit well the day — 

How use aright ? methinks I hear you say ; 

If God has pre-ordain' d my destiny, 

And He is not a man that He should lie, 

What benefits arise from thy discourse ? 

Why animate to run a sterile course ? 

If in the book of life's inscrib'd my name, 

My crimes are cancell'd, pardon I can claim ; 

But if by fate unseen consign'd to wrath, 

'Twere vain to seek the straight and narrow path ; 

Then why not follow ev'ry vain desire, 

And wait my doom, when death hath lit the pyre ? 

Oh ! dreadful thoughts, the consequence is plain, 

Your judgment premature must close in shame, 

Thro' the obscurity of future fate, 

You blindly search, and dare anticipate, 

The door of grace is op'd in vain to you, 

Assur'd with truth a retribution's due; 

D'ye follow this false reasoning throughout? 

God knows full well your state at last, no doubt, 

He hath appointed you the solemn hour — 

To cross that bound, surpasses human pow'r ; 

Why seek, when sickness calls, prepare to die, 

The sage physician ? anxious for reply, 

If he, the sore disease can ne'er allay — 

Your course is fixed, he cannot add a day ; 

In spite of reasonings you feel afraid, 

And anxiously you flee to mortal aid ; 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 167 

Where are the efforts for thy spirit's sake, 

So destitute ! yet no exertion make, 

Press to the portal on the narrow path, 

Nay, do yon dread an all-avenging wrath ? 

Knock, and 'tis open'd — what, for one so poor ! 

Silence, is He not master of the door ? 

Tho' ignorant of what my lot may be, 

Should not the thought produce activity ? 

I think I'm call'd, I hasten then, I fly ; 

Saints we must live, if we like saints would die : 

To suffer, or to die, with them I'll share, 

Tho' flesh with eagerness exclaims, " bew r are!" 

Our nature must be chang'd, must be subdued, 

Made captive, and reduc'd to servitude : 

I w^ould ensure what dubious seems my lot, 

Th' obedient child will never be forgot, 

The kindest master and the tend'rest Sire, 

Is He that calls me, need I more desire ? 

And once a son, my anxious doubts will cease, 

And be replac'd for those of joy and peace; 

Freed from alarm I hear the death-bell toll, 

To Him I look, who thus redeem' d my soul, 

Around me blessings He hath ever cast, 

Pledges of those I shall receive at last. 

Since birth these flowers across my path were strewn, 

Can I be then an object of His scorn ? 

Agreed that He is master of my fate, 

He loves me, ah ! 'tis sin that he doth hate : 



168 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

He earnestly invites, and seeks to win 

Those who prefer to heap foul sin on sin : 

The sun on all shines forth impartially, 

And boundless gifts around the rebel lie ; 

God willeth no man's death, but yet His word 

Stands sure, Jehovah wields the two-edg'd sword ; 

Why frighten' d at the justice of His law ? 

His love would heal, 'tis sin creates an awe j 

The guests whom He hath deign'd to ask and choose 

To share His banquet, will He e'er refuse ? 

All, as unworthy sinners, who have cried, 

Are sav'd, since Christ for worthless sinners died ; 

God would that ev'ry mortal should repent, 

A curse will ne'er await the penitent ; 

All such as perish, 'tis their fault and loss, 

Oh ! Israel, why shun the Saviour's cross ? 

You fear the punishment that's due to crime, 

Yet you disdain the coverts of His shrine ; 

You will not hearken when He deigns to call, 

His favours slighted crush you as they fall : 

What times and ways His grace would pardon bring ! 

What left undone ? a bird beneath her wing, 

No more from danger gathers in her young, 

Than He around you would His arms have flung, 

From you would vice and vanity have hurl'd, 

And drawn you from a false and flattering world : 

He sent afflictions, troubles, and disease, 

To wrest you from a blind and fatal ease. 



THE SONG OF GRACE. 169 

Why does this God of love, you now reply, 

Shew in His choice so much severity ? 

Could He not prove us faithful by His grace, 

If 'twere His wish ? why such a rebel race ? 

Why many call'd, but chosen only few ? 

Conceal'd amongst the world almost from view — 

As ears that fall beneath the reaper's hand, 

Left by the master for the gleaners' band ; 

Or grapes when vintage o'er but rarely seen — 

Thus the elect, how few and far between ! 

Justice and wrath in God we only see, 

Thus is He Father, thus He loveth me ! 

I tremble ! well, let us our faith unite, 

I tremble too, but faith will set us right. 

As God, I fear Him, but I also find 

A Father, loving, merciful, and kind, 

To Him, my doubts, my fears, and cares submit, 

Believe and do, what He Himself hath writ, 

I leave my reason proudly to repine, 

I know His light doth ofttimes dimly shine ; 

Thus I pursue my route by faith's bright star — 

Those she conducts can never wander far ; 

The mystery of grace will still remain, 

Man must be silent, but to God it's plain ; 

If we His mysteries attempt to sound, 

How limited is this world's wisdom found ; 

When we presume to pierce beyond the skies> 

Which hide Jehovah from our feeble eyes, 



170 THE SONG OF GRACE. 

His glory overwhelms us, and the weight 

Of grandeur proves our melancholy state ; 

Beware, lest ye outstrip the limit giv'n, 

And lose yourselves, without the gain of heav'n ; 

That holy fear is needful, God hath shewn, 

By sinners He is seen thro' Christ alone ; 

Abase your insolent and searching eyes, 

For God thy finite wisdom will despise, 

And learn to love Him, and you'll cease to fear, 

Nor once complain, you ne'er beheld Him here— 

Touch, with these truths, dear Lord, the heart of 

stone, 
And grant to all Thy saints a bolder tone, 
These promis'd succours, unrestrain'd bestow, 
And give Thy precious grace to ev'ry foe. 



171 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE CHANTS DE SION, 

Objet de la Foi. 

Isaiah xxxv. : Song of Solomon, it. I. 

1. 

The wilderness, the desert isle, 

The solitary place shall smile, 

The hard till'd ground shall then repose, 

Cloth'd with the myrtle, vine, and rose, 

The trees shall sing, the fields rejoice, 

Once having heard their Saviour's voice. 

2. 
Say to the wav'ring soul, " be strong, 
" Fear not, He ne'er will tarry long, 
" Thy feeble tott'ring knees confirm, 
" In triumph Sharon will return, 
" Thy foes with vengeance shall be hurl'd, 
" Downwards with all the rebel world." 

3. 

The deaf shall hear on that bless'd day, 
The blind no longer lose their way, 
z 



172 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

The lame shall dance, and leap for joy, 
In songs the dumb their hours employ, 
Streams thro' the wilderness shall roll, 
And praise resound from pole to pole. 

4. 
Where once the dragon form'd his lair, 
The verdant grass shall flourish there, 
An " holy way," where none can err, 
Tho' simple be the traveller, 
This high- way by each saint is trod, 
To Zion — city of his God. 

5. 
No pois'nous serpent shall be seen, 
Nor aught unholy, or unclean, 
The ransom 'd walk without a fear, 
Unsulled by the starting tear, 
Sighing and sorrowing flee away, 
And joy shall crown th' eternal day. 



Travaux de la Foi. 

Psalm lxxxiv. 6. : xxiii. 4. — Isaiah xxxii. 2. 
1. 

As deep the thicket's sombre shade, 
Till pierces thro' the solar ray, 
Thus sinful doubts our hearts pervade, 
Till Christ converts our night to day. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 173 

2. 

We've oft to cross the dreary plain, 
1" encounter dangers on our road, 
Still pools, the limpid stream contain, 
And Christ is there a safe abode. 

3. 
Oh ! Christian traveller, why fear 
The raging storm, the noontide sun ? 
What ! stand abash' d when Christ is near ? 
Then courage take, nor danger shun. 

4. 

Thy path tho' rugged, dark thy day, 
Jesus is ever by thy side, 
Invisible, He guides thy way, 
Then waver not, but still confide. 

5. 

He who for thee endur'd the cross, 
Can sympathize with thee below, 
Sustains thee under ev'ry loss, 
Prepares thee for the threat'ning blow. 

6. 
Pursue thy route, advance in peace, 
The same thy Saviour's gone before, 
His care for thee will never cease, 
Till landed on the Heav'nly shore. 



174 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Travaux de la Foi. 

Psalm xxv. 12. : xxxi. 24. 
1. 

Pleas'd by ev'ry varying scene, 
Ah ! yes, I still love vanity, 
Folly my life has ever been, 
Tho' born for immortality ; 
Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 
Sustain me by Thy mighty hand. 

2. 

When on Thy wisdom, and Thy love, 
My heart would dwell implicitly, 
Some worldly thought still makes me rove, 
And tempts me with duplicity ; 
Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 
Support me by Thy mighty hand. 

3. 

To realms above, Thy chosen heir, 

Yet what insensibility, 

In fleeting joys I long to share, 

With all their instability ; 

Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 

Uphold me by Thy mighty hand. 

4. 
My God, the portion of my soul, 
Looks down with tender sympathy ; 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 175 

But honor, riches, oft control, 
An heart fast sunk in apathy ; 
Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 
Sustain me by Thy mighty hand. 

5. 

I own I'm but a traveller, 
A stranger in the wilderness, 
Content to be a groveller, 
Tho' heir to everlasting bliss ; 
Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 
Support me by Thy mighty hand. 

6. 

On Thee, my Guide, my Lord, my King, 
Confide I unreservedly, 
Yet when my off rings I would bring, 
I feel condemn' d deservedly ; 
Without Thee, Lord, I cannot stand, 
Sustain me by Thy mighty hand. 

7. 

But quickly wastes the running sand, 

Away then false security, 

Soon I must burst this fragile band, 

And dive into futurity ; 

Could I within Thy presence stand, 

Without, dear Lord, Thy mighty hand. 



176 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



Yet vanity, thou wilt detain 

Me, while an earthly wanderer, 

But fleeting time is on the wane, 

When I can never further err ; 

Then, Lord, forgive Thy wav'ring child, 

For ever merciful, and mild. 



L'Eglise Militante. 

1. 

My soul is cast down, and my heart is all sadness, 
The world has blasphemed our Saviour's dear name, 
His love is despis'd, and considered but madness, 
Oppress'd are His people, and brought into shame. 

2. 

Oh ! Zion, thy glory is turn'd into sorrow, 
Idolatry reigns with impunity now, 
The dread path that lies but in darkness all follow, 
The chaplet of thorns is replac'd on His brow. 

3. 

The shepherds are slumb'ring, their posts aredeserted, 
Their watch dogs are silent, and sleep by their side, 
Wolves enter the fold, since by none are averted, 
Thy flock all dispers'd, know not where to confide. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, 177 

4. 

And the daughters of Zion are loud in their wail, 
The name of Jehovah no longer is priz'd, 
And His temple's profan'd by the idols of Baal, 
And the Holy of Holies is mock'd and despis'd. 

5. 

These blasphemous scofnngs have widely resounded, 
Oh ! Shepherd of Israel, hide not Thy face, 
Dismay'd are Thy sheep, and thro' terror confounded, 
Then wilt Thou forget them, Thine own chosen race ? 

6. 
No, Jesus our Lord is the sole King of glory, 
His enemies fade in a day, like a flow'r ; 
Rejoice, then, ye saints, and rehearse the glad story, 
That Christ is Almighty, and Lord of all pow'r. 



Victoire sur le Monde, 

1. 

No more shalt thou possess my heart, 
Base world, I'm rid of thee ; 
Nothing but vanity thou art, 
Since I have found the better part, 
True life and liberty. 

2. 
Thy wisdom false, thy virtue dead, 
Nought but hypocrisy, 



178 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Begone! for Christ my soul hath fed, 
Thro' pastures ever green I'm led, 
Jesus, I'll follow Thee. 

3. 

Thy subtle thraldom's at a close, 
Alas ! how could I stray, 
No peace resides, no sweet repose, 
No stream of mercy ever flows 
Along thy dreary way. 

4. 

Thou Son of God, from Thee alone 
This essence I receive, 
For Thou hast chang'd my heart of stone, 
In goodly ground Thy seed hast sown, 
And taught me to believe. 

5. 

While marching on Thy sacred road, 
Oh ! guide me by Thy voice, 
Jesus, my Saviour, King, and God, 
Thy cross shall be my chast'ning rod, 
And cause me to rejoice. 

6. 
Destroy, dear Lord, all secret ties, 
O'ershadowing Thy love, 
Teach me Thy treasures more to prize 
And lead me into fairer skies, 
To endless joys above. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 179 

" lis ne sont pas du Monde.' 1 

C ANTIQUE POUIt LA CENE. 
I. 

A sweet memento of Thy love, 
To Thy redeemed, oh Lord ! 
A golden link from saints above, 
To pilgrims on their road. 

2. 
Head of the church, lo ! Zion's King 
Has dress 'd this sweet repast, 
An earnest of a better thing, 
Which we shall taste at last, 

3. 
In garments pure, enrob'd by Thee, 
Nought but this would suffice, 
Heirs of eternity are we, 
By Thine own sacrifice. 

4. 
Thy love for our rebellious race, 
To set us truly free, 
That ev'ry child might rest in peace, 
Endur'd th' accursed tree. 

5. 
Let all Thy saints unite in song, 
Nor mourn at Thy delay, 
We know Thou wilt not tarry long, 
But turn our night to day. 
2 A 



180 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

6. 

Bless then to us Thy last bequest, 
Let nought this feast defile, 
Grant it a momentary rest, 
And grace it with Thy smile. 



Adoption Scellee. 

St. John xiv. 26, 27. 
1. 
How bright, yet how serene, the day, 
Illumin'd by Thy heav'nly ray, 
Ah ! can this holy joy decrease? 
It is my Saviour's promis'd peace. 

2. 

What is the burden, what the load, 
That pilgrims bear on Zion's road ? 
Encircled by no galling chain, 
Thy children need no more complain. 

3. 
In the recesses of my heart 
Thy spirit bears its choicest part, 
Op'ning the riches of Thy grace, 
Until I see Thee face to face. 

4. 
Preserve my soul each passing hour, 
Dear Saviour, in Thy sacred bow'r, 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 181 

Oh ! may Thy love which ever flows, 
Surround my path with sweet repose, 

5. 
Yes, Thou hast heard, dear Lord, my voice, 
Thou mak'st my trembling heart rejoice, 
To me the better part hast given, 
Then gently guide my feet to heaven. 



Gloire de la Foi. 

1. 

Contemplate Jacob's rock, 
How firm His promise stands, 
All that His mouth hath spoke, 
Is finish' d by His hands ; 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 
A refuge for His chosen bands, 

2. 

This wondrous love adore, 
Where all is boundless space, 
He, from this spacious store, 
Supplies us with His grace ; 
Hallelujah, Hallelujah — 
Nought can His charity deface. 

3. 

Our enemies in view, 
Would sink the feeble heart, 
But if they dare pursue, 



182 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

One look of pity dart ; 

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, 

Who can withstand Thy dread, " depart ?" 

4. 
In death we shall rejoice. 
The vict'ry is obtain'd, 
Rais'd by Thy pow'rful voice, 
Which Satan ne'er hath feign' d ; 
Halleluj ah , Halleluj ah , 
Thus o'er cold death see glory gain'd. 

5. 
To God all homage yield ; 
His child He'll ne'er expose, 
But guards him with His shield, 
'Gainst all his wicked foes ; 
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, 
Praise God from whom each blessing flows. 



La Fraternite. - 
1. 
Brethren, oh ! what consolation, 
Freed from this world's noisy strife, 
To unite in adoration, 
For our peace, our joy, our life ; 
Yes, Thy Spirit, Saviour Jesus, 
Kindles in our hearts a flame, 
Which from ev'ry passion frees us, 
Oh ! how sweetly sounds Thy name. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 183 

2. 

Th' outspread wings afford a cov'ring, 
O'er Thy family below, 
Round each child, Thy spirit's hov'ring, 
Few alas ! this union know ; 
Where's the name, save that of Jesus, 
Could have cleans'd from guilt and shame, 
Who from sin could thus release us — 
Oh ! this wondrous grace proclaim. 

Father, grant us more thy blessing, 
To enjoy this life divine, 
Here Thy spirit is expressing 
How we're grafted to the vine : 
Following the steps of Jesus, 
All His gloiy we may claim, 
He from Satan's yoke doth ease us ; 
Tell the world of Jesu's fame. 



Le Temps joint a VEtemitL" 
1. 

Another year is flown ! 

'Tis vanish' d as a day ! 

Life's like a flow'r, no sooner blown 

Than it is swept away ; 

Along my pathway. Jesu's voice 

Exhorts me yearly to rejoice. 



184 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

2. 

Yes, I advance in peace, 
Towards my God, and King — 
The hours that hasten my decease, 
Fresh blessings round me fling ; 
" My children's heritage divine," 
Jehovah says, " shall soon be thine." 

3. 
My well-beloved's arm 
Doth ev'ry movement tend, 
His spirit shows the hidden charm, 
That Jesus is my Friend ; 
My days run out before His eyes, 
And speed my course to fairer skies. 

4. 
Dear Father, bless each year, 
In faith, I traverse o'er, 
Till the last moment brings me near, 
That peaceful happy shore ; 
Thy promise is to dwell with Thee, 
And that for all eternity. 



O Sepulchre ! ou est ta Victoire ! 
1. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death when I'm going 
From this dreary dwelling below. 
To taste the pure fountain, whose flowing 
Thro' earth, is embitter d with woe. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 185 

2. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death, when retiring 
From wearisome combatings here ; 
'Tis mortality only expiring, 
The soul seeks a far brighter sphere. 

3. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death, when receiving 
My Sov'reign's and Father's commands 
To rise and attend Him, while leaving 
To moulder mortality's bands. 

4. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death, when I follow 
My Shepherd to yonder rich glade, 
From this lonesome valley of sorrow, 
To lie under life's tree, in shade. 

5. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death in exploring 
The field where the victory's won, 
To join the choice army adoring 
Their Captain for peace here begun. 

6. 

Oh ! no ! 'tis not death, blessed Jesus, 
When spirits are wafted above, 
Our enemy then only frees us, 
T' enjoy the perfection of love. 



186 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Actions de Graces, 

Rev. v. 9—12. 

Dear dying Lamb ! who bore the cross, 

T" assuage the anger of our God, 

Thro' Thee we count earth's treasures dross, 

A royal priesthood by Thy blood ; 

Then let Thy saints, of ev'ry tongue, 

Ascribe all honor, pow'r divine, 

This e'er shall be our only song, 

For ever joyful, ever Thine, 

Amen ! Amen ! 

Saviour ! Amen ! 



PSALM XXXII.* 

1. 

JEHOVAH. 

Blessed is he who hears from Heav'n, 
" All thy transgressions are forgiv'n," 
To him his God imputes no sin, 
Nor guile shall ever dwell therein. 
2. 

CHURCH. 

When I was dumb, my strength declined, 
Nor day, nor night, I peace could find, 

* The Psalms in general cannot be properly understood unless 
they are taken in the way of dialogue between Jehovah, and 
Christ, as the head of the Church. Vide — Tertullian, St. Augustin, 
Jerome, Ambrose, Arnobius, Cassiodore, Hilary, Prosper, Chry- 
sostom, &c. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



187 



My sins I own'd, not one conceal' d, 
Thou didst forgive, my spirit heal'd, 

3. 

When mighty waters cause despair, 
Each child will fly to Thee in pray'r, 
A hiding place, a fortress strong : 
Thou, Thou alone, shalt grace his song. 
4. 

JEHOVAH. 

I will instruct thee in the way, 
And guide thee that thou shalt not stray ; 
Resemble not the stubborn mule, 
But humbly learn in wisdom's school. 

5. 
For the ungodly, plagues remain, 
But he who knows his Saviour's name, 
Mercy embraceth ev'ry side ; 
Rejoice ye righteous, and confide. 



PSALM XCI. 
1. 

JEHOVAH. 

Whoso dwelleth beneath the defence of the Lord, 
Jehovah's protection shall be his reward. 

CHRIST AS HEAD OF THE CHURCH. 

I will say of my God, He's my refuge and tow'r, 
My confidence rests on the arm of His pow'r. 
2 b 



188 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



2. 



JEHOVAH. 

From the snare of the fowler, behold thou art free, 
The pestilence shall not come nigh unto thee, 
'Neath the outspreading wings thou art safely 

conceal' d, 
His truth shall be ever thy buckler and shield. 

3. 

Thou shalt ne'er be afraid for the terror by night, 
Nor arrow that flieth, tho' aim'd in the light, 
For the noisome, and dark prowling pestilence, sin, 
Nor its sickness, shall ever inhabit within. 

4. 

Tho' a thousand fall near thee, and millions around, 
In thy habitation it ne'er will be found, 
Thou shalt only behold the dread ravages made 
Upon those who despise His protection, and aid. 

5. 

CHRIST. 

Thou, Lord, art my hope, my defence is so high, 
No plague can befal me, nor evil come high. 

JEHOVAH. 

The wild beasts of the forest shall lie at thy feet, 
And minist'ring angels enclose thy retreat. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 189 

Because thou hast lov'd, and hast honour'd His 

name, 
All nations shall see, and acknowledge thy fame ; 
When time is run out thy long life shall not fail, 
But with joy His salvation thou ever shalt hail. 

Note. — " I venture to believe that the Holy Ghost had no other 
object in view in dictating this Psalm than to refer the whole to the 
person of Christ as the head of the church ; and under this idea, it 
opens to one of the most sublime subjects the church can con- 
template — viz. : Jehovah's love to the person of Christ as Mediator." 



THE WANDERER. 
& ^Fragment. 

1. 

A wanderer from his native shore was one, 
Who would have linger' d out his longest days, 
Where he had first beheld the rising sun, 
Where first was taught to lisp his Maker's praise ; 
I know not what's the reason, but there is 
A charm which rests upon the natal spot, 
Tho' 't were a barren heath, a wilderness, 
'Tis wisely thus ordain' d, that each man's lot 
Should be to him his home, never to be forgot. 

2. 
But greater ties than this are snapp'd by me, 
To bid both quick and dead a long farewell ! 



190 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

By dead, I mean a line of ancestry, 

Who living, many a long tale could tell, 

But e'er reviv'd in memory's faithful page ; 

Some fought for freedom in the civil wars, 

Some in the senate shone, in ev'ry age, 

Like Britons true, espous'd their country's cause, — 

May the last solemn trump re-echo past applause ! 

3. 

If 'tis a grief to turn from those departed, 
What must it be from friends still living here ? 
Impressions form'd when light and tender hearted, 
Grow into deeper int'rest every year, 
Whether thy pathway lie o'er hill or dale, 
A constant friend will cheer thy journey through. 
If fortune smile, he spreads the fav'ring sail, 
But if she frown, behold him still in view — 
Who can, without a pang, reiterate — adieu ! 

4. 
Land of my birth, I bid a long farewell, 
Once sons of freedom, happy, bold, and true, 
A Tory dynasty nigh wrought her spell, 
And ruin'd millions t' aggrandize a few ; 
This plant could never thrive in English soil, 
Britons could ne'er be slaves, since freemen born : 
William arose, our country sav'd from spoil, 
His voice dispers'd the dread approaching storm, 
While placing o'er the crown, the sentinel — Reform ! 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 191 

5. 

A vagrant life hath many a charm for me, 
Don't startle, for I've left no occupation 
Where stern duty calls me, I being free, 
Eesolv'd to visit many a foreign nation ; 
The mind becomes enlarg'd, gains information, 
On country, climate, customs, manners, men, 
Friendship's of quicker growth, each station 
Abroad is blended easier, but then 
How soon the vision's flow'n ! how few e'er meet 
again ! 

6. 
In man's brief life perhaps there's not an hour, 
Where the conflicting passions so unite, 
As when recedes from sight the well-known tow'r ; 
Now lost in distance ! soon the scene looks bright 
That's spread before us ; land's a head they cry, 
All bustling for their passports, trunks; ere long 
We sigh no more, but catch the sympathy ; 
A steam-boat forms no beauty for my song, 
Laughing at wind and tide, she steers her course 
along. 

7. 
Things of pure worth are seldom valued most, 
'Tis glitter, tinsel, and mere outside show 
That catch the world at large ; to reach the coast 
Poets would sing, how the light breezes blow, 



192 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

The sails unfurl, the cordage strains, sweet smiles — 
A shipwreck, or becalm'd, may be your lot, 
Poetically sailing twenty miles : 
In three hours we arriv'd at the same spot, 
Thanks to our Yankee friends, and the renown'd 
James Watt. 



France, la belle France, who would not pity thee, 
Emerging from a direful revolution, 
Duke, Marquis, Count, with a long pedigree, 
Without a spot to set their feet upon ? 
Thy chateaux, though in ruins, truly tell 
The luxe and splendour of thy former days ; 
The fault's thine own — justice doth sore rebel, 
x\nd thou art censur'd.when thou seekest praise ; 
But having lost thine all, pity my tribute pays. 

9. 

In ruins, 'tis a grievous sight to see 

What proudly said, " 111 stand, till time shall fail," 

It ne'er can be forgot, while history 

B elates with truth great Conde"s woeful tale ; 

What various feelings cross 'd us on that day, 

When musing o'er thy grandeur, taste, and fame ; 

The nightingale ne'er left her mournful lay, 

Thus ling'ring still upon thy vast domain ! 

Oh ! who would envy riches, pow'r, honor, name. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 193 

10. 

France once for courtl) T splendour bore the prize, 
None can well doubt it who has seen Versailles, 
Here royalty triumphantly defies 
A rival, weathering e'en rebellion's gales ; 
And thou, great architect (whose mighty name 
Nigh equall'd his, who laid imperial Koine), 
Wast rais'd to highest pinnacle of fame, 
When virtue hurl'd thee down, thy sins t' atone, 
Without one friendly tear, deserted, and alone ! 

11. 

The long straight avenues of elms foretell 
The near approach to the gay capital, 
The mart of dissipation, the loud yell 
And din of trade, you seldom light upon, 
Whate'er thy fancy is, you've but to choose, 
I know no other town that pleases all, 
Their only business, the best mode t' amuse, 
The grave find grave pursuits, the gay the ball ; 
And millions sink to dust, ere these delusions pall I 

12. 

As the proud vessel o'er the ocean sails, 
With all her canvass stretch'd in summer's breeze, 
But closely trimm'd when wintry blast prevails, 
Her helm directing thro' the dang'rous seas, 



194 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Each happiness bestowed, may we embrace 

With gratitude, as o'er the world we roam, 

But should adversity our fortune trace, 

Let us remember, this is not our home, 

For the bright haven lies beyond the billow's foam. 

13. 

Lord ! guide us safely thro' our wanderings, 

Not to our native soil, but home to Thee, 

When dangers threaten, shade us with Thy wings, 

When taken captive, Thou can'st set us free ; 

(All, all is vanity below the sun, 

The wise man said it, and 'tis yet confess'd ; 

If thou art candid, e'er since life begun, 

Thy sweetest hours thou'lt own but vain at best) : 

Speed our immortal souls to Thy immortal rest. 



FARE THEE WELL. 

Upon my meeting at Milan with * * * * *, after an 
interval often years, each unacquainted with the blessings 
granted to the other — on our first interview, we had been 
eagerly occupied with the pursuits of vanity, but on our 
second, with an incorruptible crown of glory. 



1822. 
Well — thou art gone ! perhaps we meet no more ! 
Or shall we meet so gay as heretofore ? 
Life's journey chequer'd by a varied scene, 



MISCELLANEOUS PIE< ES 195 

We ne'er can be, alas ! what we have been ; 
Our interest lost, pursuits no more agree ; 
Th' illusion's gone ! alas ! 'tis vanity ! 

1832. 
But now, my friend, we're drawn by closer ties, 
Consummated not here, but in the skies ; 
Whene'er we meet, whate'er our lot may be, 
The self- same union binds me close to thee ; 
A life-possessing never-ending love, 
Begun below, but perfected above. 



ON THE MEDITERRANEAN. 
1. 

The waves ran high, and the wind blew a gale. 
When a bark appear'd with close-reef 'd sail, 
On the compass was turn'd the steersman's eye, 
As he bore up to wind with a doleful sigh, 
Each sailor alert for the captain's word, 
Save one, " goes about," not a thing was heard, 

2. 

Thus time wore away, and the night came fast, 
And on ev'ry tack, " may this be our last," 
Was the fervent wish, when the wind chopp'd round, 
And " make all sail,"' was the joyful sound ; 
The canvass stretch'd with an evening breeze— 
The haven's soon made, and she rides at ease, 
2 c 



196 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

3. 

The lusts of the world to a Christian's mind, 
Resemble the waves, and the boist'rous wind, 
Tho' tempted, distress'd, and perplex'd on his way, 
Still his course is illum'd with Christ's bright ray, 
Faith pilots him on, whilst hope trims the sails, 
But 'tis love's soft breeze that he joyfully hails. 



ON THE DEATH OF % % % # % % , 

Which took place at Chiandola. 
1. 

Oh ! the last rays of sunset ! fair Italy's pride ! 
When nature looks varied, tho' ever serene, 
The soft air breathes a perfume at even tide, 
Thro' the citron, and myrtle, luxuriantly green ; 
As the shadows are length'ning gradual and slow, 
Th' horizon's warm tinge throws a glow o'er the vale, 
The last ray is seen on yon mountain of snow, 
When night's harbinger rises so tranquil and pale. 

2. 

But the Christian's decline is more beautiful still, 
As the warmth and the light she scatter' d around, 
Are withdrawing from earth, the radiance will fill 
Ev'ry friend with a peace, nowhere else to be found ; 
Tho' a shade is thrown over each kindred heart, 
The bright eye of faith sees her shining above ; 
Ah ! who would not share in her glorious part, 
And rejoin, and for ever, the friend whom we love. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 197 

C HAM O UN I. 
" The Ice Plain bursts, and answers God! "— Coleridge. 

Thy Glacier lake and cloud capp'd top Mont Blanc 
Draw to this calm retreat a motley throng ; 
At early dawn each takes his separate track, 
With guide and staff and knapsack on his hack, 
To Montan Vert, then to the Jardin climh, 
'Midst granite rocks, and glaciers, so sublime ! 
Some with the eagle bend their vent'rous flight, 
And mount the Col du Balme or Brevens height. 
Who dare describe these wondrous scenes around, } 
Awfully grand, which never heard a sound, > 

Save the wild avalanche's thund'ring bound ; J 
Here tributary streams in silence flow, 
Which form the torrent raging far below, 
And falling headlong dashes up its spray, 
Till the fair valley's reach' d, there ling'ring loves 

to stay — 
And I — but no — we cannot rest with thee, 
Then, fare thee well, sweet vale of Chamouni. 
Does this produce no moral for my song ? 
Th' ambitious great assimilate Mont Blanc, 
Imposing at a distance to behold, 
Tho' on a near approach, forbidding, cold ; 
The Christian, like thy dale without display, 
Leaves yet a charm where others fade away, 



198 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

But human nature ever will prevail, 

E'en in this tranquil solitary vale ;* 

Then rest not here, but raise thy thoughts above, 

Where all is perfect peace — all perfect love. 



AUREAM QUISQUIS MEDIOCRITATEM DILIGIT. 

Whoever loves the golden mean, 
And seeks to shun each bold extreme. 
Will, by perspective's rigid law, 
Appear from both sides to withdraw. 



UPON THE TEXT OF SCRIPTURE OVER THE PULPIT 
AT NICE. 

s Matthew xviii. 20. 

God says, " who meet to reverence My name, 

" There will I be the penitent to claim ; 

" Altho' by nature wrapp'd in endles night, 

" I'll be to him an everlasting light, 

u A light V avoid all dangers on the road, 

" A light to cheer him on to meet his God ; 

" Thro' the lone valley he shall never fear, 

" Tho' lost to all, yet his Eedeemer's near." 

The world's amaz'd what makes the saint rejoice, 

'Tis not the whirlwind, but the still small voice. 



* Two brothers who kept the Union Hotel quarrelled, and the 
younger has set up the Crown. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 199 

UPON PARTING WITH FRIENDS, 

Whom we suddenly met with, and never expected to meet again in 
this World — on the Adriatic. 

1. 

Sweet to behold two vessels hove in sight, 
Their canvass stretch' d with sailors' heartfelt glee, 
The royal pennant mounts to gaft-top height, 
Friend answers friend, upon a foreign sea 
They slacken sail ; their intercourse how short ! 
Then the farewell ; the top-sail's now unfurl' d, 
The helm's a-lee, each for its destin'd port ; 
Thus have we met, no sooner love return'd, 
Then part to meet no more in this uncertain world. 

2. 
True, we may meet no more within this sphere, 
If all our joys were clos'd, a dreary thought ; 
But Christian warriors check the starting tear, 
Their thoughts on glory, when the battle's fought ; 
Yes, we shall meet again, our ensigns shew, 
Where storms and tempests are for ever past, 
Where calms pervade and streams of bliss o'erflow — 
Welcome the gale that bends the creaking mast, 
That waft's us without fear to the same port at last. 



IN A BIBLE, 
A Present to ***** $ 

Dear friend, receive this precious gift, 
To some, alas ! how poor ; 



200 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

But Christ for thee the latch doth lift, 

And open throws the door. 

What wondrous treasures here reveal' d ! 

These treasures all thine own, 

The choicest flow'r that lies conceal'd 

For thee hath fully blown. 



UPON AN ANCIENT AQUEDUCT, 
•' Le Pont du Gard," near Nismes. 

Thy crumbling mass our sympathy may claim, 
Majestic ruin of departed fame, 
Thou, stretch' d across the ravine as the mean, 
Hast borne to thirsty souls the gushing stream, 
Emblem of One who stood 'twixt God and man, 
Whence living streams of love and mercy ran ; 
But now the emblem's o'er, and Christ is hail'd 
As Saviour still, when thou thro' time hast fail'd. 



TWO EXTRAORDINARY DREAMS, 

Related to me by a Friend. 
Job yii. 14. 

1. 

'Tis but a dream I cried, 
As night withdrew at dawn, 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. '201 

My partner still was by my side, 
And I, not left forlorn ; 
Yet 'twas an awful threat'ning scene, 
Ah ! can I e'er forget this dream. 

2. 

Thro' rambling paths we stray'd, 

When lo ! appear' d hard by, 

A wicket gate, which clos'd a glade, 

Unseen to human eye ; 

A call was heard ! she enter' d thro' ! 

Nor once look'd back ! nor bid " adieu !" 

3. . 

Appall'd, I stood aghast, 

Confus'd, and fill'd with doubt ; 

When seeking entrance, all was fast ! 

And I was left without ! 

The beauteous scene where both had smil'd, 

Now look'd a wilderness — a wild ! 

4. 

As the bright solar ray 
Thro' mists, and clouds, appears, 
So did my spirit wing its way, 
Thro' doubts, misgivings, fears, 
Tho' ofttimes skirting Lethe's stream, 
I still was haunted by my dream. 



202 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

& 

Did Israel understand, 

Thro' deserts they were led, 

To view from rocks their Saviour's hand,* 

And taste celestial bread ? 

Seed oft is sown in sorrow's hour,f 

Tho' sweet indeed may be the flow'r. 

6. 

Another morning's light 

Brought all my soul's desire, 

I had experienc'd such delight, 

I felt 'twould never tire ; J 

My heart so warm'd upon the theme, 

I woke, but found it still a dream. 

7. 
Now sweetly taught was I, 
The heart-felt word, forgive ; 
Now I knew what it was to die, 
And the blest promise, live ; § 
Tho' faintly paints the passing dream, 
What ear ne'er heard, nor eye hath seen. || 

8. 
As Jesus and His bride,** 
Thro' us in emblems giv'n, 

* 1 Cor. x. 3, 4. 
t Psalm cxxvi. 5, 6. % Rev. vii. 9, &c. 

I Psalm xxxii. 1,2. || 1 Cor. ii. 9. 

** Solomon's Song viii. 5. Ephesians v. 23, &c. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. . 203 

So may we traverse side by side 
This wilderness to Heav'n : 
Tho' slight the foretaste of that love, 
If valued here, how priz'd above. 



PARADISE LOST AND PARADISE REGAINED. 

Rev. xxi. Psalm lxxxvii. 5 ; en. 13, &c. ; 
cxxxn. 13, 14. 

1. 

Ah ! why thou foul deceiver, 
Didst woman first assail, 
Of innocence bereave her, 
And woes on woes entail ; 
Derob'd of all her glory, 
(For Eve was faithless found), 
She listen' d to his story, 
And flung the curse around. 

2. 

Ey Eden's balmy fountains 
We had in peace reclined, 
O'er seas and distant mountains, 
Held converse with mankind ; 
The wild beasts' fearful roaring, 
Had never caus'd dismay, 
Nor need of man's exploring, 
T' arrest this earth's decay. 
2 D 



204 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

3. 

Ere woman first was given, 
E'en Eden was a wild, 
On this last boon of Heav'n 
The whole creation smil'd ; 
Love's pinions were extended, 
To perfect all our bliss — 
Ah ! sure 'twere not intended 
To seal our wretchedness. 

4. 
Then, farewell tainted river, 
Thy waves I'll not deplore, 
To Thee, Eternal Giver, 
The fountain head I soar ; 
Tho' woman clos'd in sorrow 
Creation's glorious dawn, 
Heav'n's echo op'd the morrow, 
That Christ of woman's born. 

5. 

How vast this wondrous myst'ry, 

Wing'd by the mystic dove, 

To teach lost man his hist'ry, 

And God's eternal love ; 

We might have held communion 

With God, as God of all, 

But ne'er had known this union, 

Without dear woman's fall. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 205 

6. 

Then self and tainted nature, 
With joy I count but loss, 
For Christ, my King, Creator, 
And His redeeming cross ; 
O'er this most precious promise 
I muse, and muse again — 
(Could Eden yield such solace ?) 
" With Me shall Zion reign." 



UPON MY INFANT. 

Born the 28th of May, 1826. Christened and expired the following 
morning. 

1. 

Ah ! 'twas my unknown infant's cries, 
Just ent'ring into sorrow, 
With bitter tears he op'd his eyes, 
Which clos'd upon the morrow. 

2. 
No dimpled smile e'er grac'd his cheek, 
'Twas pallid, wan, and hollow, 
To him no parent once shall speak, 
Nor e'en his corse may follow. 

3. 
He came, and in a moment fled, 
As drops fall on the ocean, 



206 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

One little circle round is spread, 
Poor nature's soft emotion. 

4. 
He wept his little hour away, 
My heart were nearly riven, 
When lo ! I heard my Saviour say, 
" Thy seed shall be forgiven."* 

5. 

" Why all this moaning and distress, 
" My promises rely on, 
" The road lies thro' this wilderness, 
" To the bright city Zion. 

u Now strike the lyre, with songs of praise, f 
" To God be glory given, 
" For these two gloomy sorrowing days, 
" Send one more soul to Heaven." 

7. 
Couldst thou, to me, again return, 
The wish should not be spoken ; 
I feel while musing o'er thine urn, 
God's word can ne'er be broken. 

* Isaiah Ixv. 23 ; Psalm cii. 28 ; St. Mark x. 13, 14. 
t 2 Samuel xii, 23. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 207 



ON RETIRING TO REST. 



-Ille potens sui 



Laetusque deget, cui licet in diem 
Dixisse vixi."— Hon. 

Psalm it. 8. 

Ah ! as I laid me down to rest, 

Sins upon sins around me pressed, 

Yes, ev'ry thought, and deed, and word, 

Unsheath'd as 't were a two-edg'd sword, 

My selfish projects, true, I crush' d, 

And to the ear of man were hush'd, 

But as they rose, they plainly shew'd 

The putrid source from whence they flow'd : 

My deeds, when I had canvass'd o'er, 

I found self standing at the door, 

To ev'ry movement of my tongue, 

Self, self, around each sentence clung, 

And works which I had left undone, 

Seem'd to complete th' alarming sum. 

Suppose, I thought, this very night, 

Jehovah call me into light ! 

Then Christ was precious to my view, 

And to His fond embrace I flew, 

Within His open'd arms I crept, 

And laid me safely down, and slept. 

THE HOUR OF PRAYER. 
1. 

Lo ! yonder convent bell is ringing. 
Shrill piercing thro' the evening air — - 



208 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Hark ! now I hear the vespers singing, 
'Tis the tranquil hour of pray'r. 

2. 

The fiery orb is fast declining, 
With its parch'd meridian glare, 
And the silvery moonbeams shining, 
Softly speak the hour of pray'r. 

3. 
Chaste Philomel pours forth her plaining, 
Pensive, and wild, unknown to care, 
The perfum'd balmy breeze inhaling, 
Sweetly chaunts the hour of pray'r. 

4. 

Let those who covet superstition, 
To high arch'd gothic piles repair ; 
But He who wafts the soul's petition, 
Whispers, 'tis the hour of pray'r. 

5. 

Amidst the olive groves I've ponder'd, 
Pluck' d the cool fig tree's luscious fare, 
'T was thus, I said, my Saviour wander'd, 
Thus enjoy'd that hour of pray'r. 

6. 
Thou lovely lake and glacier mountain, 
Lit but my spirit's dark despair, 
Until I quaff' d the living fountain — 
Precious was that hour of pray'r. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 209 

7. 

May I, as earth's chill clouds are flying, 
Jesu's sweet communion share ; 
May eve or morn, or living, dying, 
Be to me the hour of pray'r. 



REFLECTIONS 

On the 28th verse of the 8th chapter of Romans. 
1. 

This promise is enough to prove 
Thine ev'ry act, dear Lord, is love ; 
Tho' I'm a blind and faithless child, 
Unwilling to be reconcil'd. 

2. 
How wondrous is the gift of faith, 
To trust in what Jehovah saith ; 
The simple word without a sign ! 
Who dare deny the work divine ? 

3. 
See Abram leave his kindred — home, 
Unconscious where about to roam ; 
Time soon reveal'd the outstretched hand, 
That drove him at his Lord's command. 

4. 
When faithless Lot a kingdom sought, 
The sequel proves it dearly bought ; 
The Christian that on earth takes root, 
Produces nought but bitter fruit. 



210 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

5. 

But he who thro' faith's vista sees, 
Jehovah's precious promises, 
May bid farewell to doubt or fear, 
For blessings drop with ev'ry tear. 

6. 
When the fig, vine, and olive fail,* 
My Heav'nly heritage I hail ; 
The herd that sickens in the stall, 
Reminds me of my all in all. 

7. 
Then, if perchance some passing cloud, 
Mine ardour chill, my light enshroud, 
I fly to promises and pray'r, 
Nor fail to prize what sent me there. 

8. 
Oh ! precious faith, for this I pray, 
To cheer me on my chequer' d way ; 
What disappointment can ensue 
To one who knows Thy word is true ? 



REFLECTIONS 

At the Tomb of Gessner, the German Poet. 

1. 

Deep in yon grove's sequester' d shade, 
Is mem'ry's tribute seen to rise, 

* Habakkuk iii. 17. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 211 

For one who had so wildly stray'd, 
To draw forth nature's sympathies. 

2. 
Tho' Gessner thou hast sweetly sung, 
Thy notes are tainted with a gloom, 
One chord upon thy lyre unstrung, 
No harmony can pierce the tomb. 

3. 

Thy parting spirit cast behind 
An halo round thy classic name ; 
But oh ! how fickle blows the wind 
Upon terrestrial by-gone fame. 

4. 
As rapid Linthe e'er gliding by, 
Attempts to court thy lone repose, 
Just ripples forth a murm'ring sigh, 
Then onward hastily she flows. 

5. 

Guests all departed from a feast, 
The empty wine cup stands alone ; 
The song, the harp, and viol, ceas'd, 
What, but the remnants round, are strewn ? 

6. 
Millions of spirits have relied 
On specious sentiments like thine, 
2 E 



5U2 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Thus falsely living, falsely died, 
Their future state who dare define ? 

7. 
Ah ! genius ! why rest content, 
In mortal's frail embrace to lie ; 
When if thy pathway's rightly bent, 
'Twill lead to immortality. 



REFLECTIONS 

On the 10th verse of the 2nd chapter of Micah. 
1. 

Bless'd is the man, and only he, 
Whom Jesus has address'd, 
" Take up thy cross and follow me, 
" For this is not thy rest." 

2. 

Yet since I heard th' awak'ning voice, 
I ofttimes felt depress'd, 
So seldom able to rejoice, 
For earth I made my rest. 

3. 

The idol folded in my arms, 

Lost all its fancied zest, 

For thorns transpierc'd fictitious charms, 

And marr'd the promis'd rest. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 213 

4. 

(I've gaz'd on nature, vast, sublime, 
And when most richly drest ; 
Have wander'd thro' Italia's clime, 
But never found a rest. 

5. 

The bird who idly wings its flight, 
And lowly builds his nest, 
Catches the school-boy's wily sight, 
Who robs him of his rest.) 

5. 

Long thro' the desert I was brought, 
Without, within, distressed, 
Till by experience dearly taught 
That this was not my rest. 

6. 

Now journeying on in haste I fly, 
From pursuits once carress'd, 
To sin and self desire to die, 
To gain a purer rest. 

7, 
While, Abba, Father, fills my song, 
Love burns within my breast, 
Death's curse remov'd, I even long 
To flee, and be at rest. 



214 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

THE LAKE OF COMO. 

The Inn at Varenna, on the Lake of Como, was for- 
merly an Italian nobleman's villa. It is terrassed down 
to the Lake, the parterres are clothed with lemon trees, 
vines are elegantly festooned from tree to tree, and the 
aloe and rare exotics are growing ont of the walls. On 
a moon-light evening, it was quite enchanting. The la- 
mentable catastrophe was related to me by my boatmen. 



When Phoebus riseth o'er the eastern height, 
Nature dismantled, bursts upon the sight, 
One lovelier tint, another quick succeeds, 
As on its route the fiery globe proceeds, 
And when his chariot in the distance fades, 
What fragrant perfumes rise with ev'ning shades ; 
If there be yet on earth one perfect spot 
On thee, fair lake of Como, falls the lot, 
In admiration each with each would vie, 
To raise their song of triumph to the sky ; 
All nature's varied choir, full praise redound, 
Their lord alone is cumberer of the ground. 
Come, let us haste, and lightly dip the oar, 
To view chaste Cynthia paint Bellagio's shore, 
Or stroll thro' Sommariva's cypress grove, 
And listen to the plaintive song of love ; 
But stay, some boding cloud a dampness throws, 
Which chills my soul, and robs it of repose— 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 215 

FIRST BOATMAN. 

So calm and so tranquil appear'd the lake, 
No ripple was turn'd, nor a leaf did shake, 
When the stranger joyfully left the shore, 
To be seen for a moment, and then no more ! 

SECOND BOATMAN. 

I can never forget that fearful day, 
When the thunder-cloud hid the sun's bright ray, 
The boat for one instant lay on the wave, 
Then righted, but ah ! he had enter' d his grave. 

FIRST BOATMAN. 

At the lattice there stood the lady fair, 
How sudden her smiles were turn'd to despair, 
She star'd aghast, for she thought not to weep, 
Tho' he rose no more from the fathomless deep. 

SECOND BOATMAN. 

So beautiful, young, and sprightly they were, 
Who ever beheld a happier pair? 
Each look'd so enraptur'd, when side by side, 
They gaz'd on the scene, in the cool even tide. 

FIRST BOATMAN. 

At that same lattice she sat the last eve 

Taking a last, and disconsolate leave, 

As her eyes were cast on the treach'rous lake, 

They spoke the full heart that was ready to break, 

SECOND BOATMAN. 

She gave birth to a lovely boy, I'm told, 

And when she had strength in her arms t' enfold, 



216 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Once press'd him close, shrieking out, " Oh ! that 
sail!" - . 

When her heart ceas'd to beat, and her cheek grew 
pale. 

MORAL. 

Dear reader, meditate I pray, on this, 
Nor think to draw from earth a perfect bliss ; 
But if thro' nature thou canst look to God, 
Then peace and joy will spring from ev'ry sod. 



1 CORINTHIANS VIII. 1, 2. 

Yvoodi aeavTov. 

1. 

Shun, shun, my friend, the schemes of man, 
Where bold presumption dares to scan 
The thoughts and ways of God ; 
'Twere better an imperfect sight, 
Than venture on the craggy height, 
So insecurely shod. 

2. 
Vain Icarus, with waxen wings, 
Upwards to solar regions springs 
A brighter ray t' enjoy, 
But lo ! th' invigorating heat 
His rash presumption did defeat, 
And wingless fell the boy. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 217 

3. 

The bark that bears proportion' d sail, 

Fears not the loud approaching gale, 

Or the high billow's roar, 

While she, who boldly courts the breeze, 

Is swallow'd in the raging seas, 

Or driven on the shore. 



The high professor looks without 

To solve the mystery or doubt, 

Nor feels the curse of sin ; 

But he who would God's presence share, 

Is full of watchfulness and pray'r, 

And searches deep within. 



Suppose thy creed or doctrine stand 
More clear upon divine command 
Than mine — I cry, beware, 
Lest thou in futile systems rest, 
And think thyself completely drest, 
When needy, poor, and bare ! 

6. 

Then seek for wisdom from above, 
Founded upon eternal love ; 



218 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

In that bright mirror see 
Thyself a poor and helpless worm ; 
Then to thy brother thou wilt turn, 
And taste pure charity. 



THE CONTRAST. 

On the lake of Lucerne, between Fluelen and Brennen, 
is the memorable promontory, where the three Swiss heroes 
met to concert plans for relieving their country from the 
Austrian yoke. These three men, on the 17th of Novem- 
ber, 1307, brought with them thirty chosen patriots, who 
swore to preserve their ancient privileges to the last drop 
of their blood, without prejudice to the Counts of Haps- 
burg, or any of their unjust governors. On the 1st of 
January the ensuing year they effected this purpose, by 
seizing the fortresses and conducting their tyrants safely 
to their frontier. Such was the origin of the " Confede- 
ration Helvetique," which was consummated in the year 
1313. 

In the environs of St. Maurice and Martigny, occurred 
the remarkable example of Martyrdom of the Theban 
legion, consisting of 6000 Christian soldiers. As the 
Roman army under Maximian, was on its march for 
Gaul, at Octoduram (Martigny), the Emperor commanded 
a festival celebration, in honor of the gods, and the 
Christian soldiers were called to participate. In order to 
avoid this idolatry, the Theban legion retired to a strong 
position under the command of Mauritius, their chieftain ; 
Maximian immediately inflicted on them the decimation 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 219 

of the whole legion ; gladly, calmly, triumphantly, did 
each tenth soldier present his breast to the sword of death ; 
the others remaining faithful to their religion, a second 
decimation tithed the remnant of these soldiers of Christ 
of the life of the body ; the remnant were unshaken in 
their fidelity to the Redeemer; thus Maximian, seeing 
that their constancy was invincible, ordered the execu- 
tion of the whole remaining legion. 



1. 

I respect the gallant band, 

Who were join'd in common cause, 

To free from servile laws, 

Their native land ; 

When nigh madden'd to despair, 

They snapp'd the Austrian chain 

And freely breath' d again 

Their mountain air. 

2. 

Not a rebel force was thine, 
When ye chas'd the tyrant hence, 
Who stole in false pretence 
Thy right divine. 
May thy valour spread around 
How ye turn'd away the foe, 
Without th' avenging blow, 
From off thy ground. 
2 F 



220 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

3. 

Yet, far greater is the fame, 

Of the Theban Legion brave, 

Who gladly made their grave, 

For Jesu's name ; 

From their foes they would not fly, 

Nor once shun'd the murd'rous sword,. 

But they fear'd the dread word — 

Idolatry. 

4. 
This confirm'd the Legion's doom, 
And they calmly op'd their breast, 
To greet the welcom'd guest, 
Which sent them home ; 
They obtained no world's renown^ 
Nor did laurels grace their brow ; 
But what's their triumph now ? 
An Heav'nly crown. 

5. 
Honor her banner may display, 
Pleasure her garlands round may fling, 
Liberty may spread her wing, 
But for a day ! 

How rapidly the moments fly ! 
As boats upon the gliding stream, 
All things vanish in a dream ; 
Save one ! — to die ! 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 221 

6. 

Ye saints rejoice, no longer slaves, 
Free grace imshackl'd ev'ry link, 
Fearless march'd ye to the brink 
Of Jordan's waves ; 

Beyond, and you have gain'd the prize, 
There earthly splendor seems but dross ! 
Ye who bore a Saviour's cross, 
With Him, will rise. 



jfrm tf)e German. 

Oh ! that my soul were calmly pure, serene, 
Reflecting deeply as the tranquil stream, 
Then in her might Thy spirit bathe its ray, 
And the fond image on her surface play. 



ON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS WRITTEN IN GILT 
LETTERS. 

In thunder roll'd mount Sinai's dread commands, 
Which rivetted anew the captive's bands ; 
But op'ning clouds disclose the mystic dove, 
Who gilds them precepts of a Father's love. 



222 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

A DOGGREL SATIRE FOUNDED ON FACT. 

Job xi. 12. 

*' Haec hominibus sola perfectio, si impefectos se esse noverint." 
— Jerom. 

A right goodly party with wishes sincere, 

Who happen'd to meet on their pilgrimage here, 

Propos'd to talk over their ills on the road, 

And their joys upon reaching their last abode ; 

Now stepp'd down the Devil, with tail for a sword, 

" Methinks it is needful to edge in a word, 

" Tho' I've never been call'd to descend from my 

perch, 
" When pitted two worthy divines of the church.' ' 
The party met, and began very civil, 
While under the table couch'd, who ? — 'twas the 

Devil : 
" In their final abode they agree, 'tis plain, -\ 

" But their route, I conclude, is not all the same, > 
" So here I'll endeavour to make up my game." j 
" The spiritual church," quoth the premier Divine, 
" To a certain extent, I'd dare to confine," 
Then turns to his brother, and asks, "what say you? 
" By the cast of your face, you can't be a Jew." 
u I should have cried mum, but appealing to me, 
" I confess with your views, I do not agree, 
" The Gospel's extended to every soul, 
" From north, till you've circuted round to the pole." 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



223 



" Yes, there we are fully agreed, my dear friend, 
" But the church, you would not its bound' ries 

extend?" 
" Extend ! to be sure to the ends of the earth, 
11 From Adam's sad fall, to his offspring's last birth." 
" But that cannot be — to the word let's repair, 
" And here you will find your delusion laid bare." 
" But a truce," says a third, " we've no further need, 
" I think on the whole we are nearly agreed." 
" Agreed?" cries the second, " the part nowproposed,* 
" The truth of my statement hath fully expos'd ;" 
" If all be the church," adds a fourth with a shout, 
" May I venture to ask, from whom its call'd out?f 
" But end such vain squabbling, it doth not seem 

well 
" To leave the sweet kernel to fight for the shell. " 
Then Satan around gave his tail a great swing, 
When the masc'line tongues made the salon's sides 

ring ; 
Now logic, now nonsense, now metaphors bawl'd, 
The Devil himself was confus'd, and appall'd, 
And with tail under arm, he bids a farewell, 
And carried the news to his subjects in hell. 
N.B. — 'Twere right I should add, in the wrangling 

dispute, 
The ladies look'd placid, their tongues were all mute ! 

* Ephesians v. 25, 26, 27. 

t Church in the original, set apart, or called out, 



224 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

MORAL. 

Our purest acts need watchfulness and pray'r, 
Or Satan's sure to find an entrance there. 



WRITTEN IN AN ALMANACK. 

Why stay the passing hour to vent a sigh ! 

To note how swift the seasons flitter by ? 

What ! tread again o'er vale and rocky steep, 

Smile where we smil'd, and weep where once did weep ? 

Can we the demon of his rights bereave, 

Or in fate's varied web, false colours weave ? 

No, earth's vicissitudes may onwards roll, 

Ours is the prize, beyond time's with'ring goal ; 

The thorns that now bestrew our narrow way, 

Forbid the wish to loiter, or to stray, 

And ev'ry blushing rose, and varied flow'r, 

But shadow forth a never fading bow'r. 

When life's dark calendar is travers'd o'er, 

And the dread tyrant opes the prison door, 

Like freedom's dove, we snap the captive's string, 

And from these cells our spirits homewards wing. 



ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS: 

& Boggrcl. 
I've no time to myself, I'm e'er call'd away, 
The work of my Master fills up the whole day ! 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 225 

ANSWER. 

Tho', Christian, no doubt your intention's sincere, 
Yet Satan's claw-foot may be found even here ; 
Change prithee, your name, and your actions conceal, 
And then you'll perceive the extent of your zeal. 



UPON HEARING THE ANCIENT CONVENT BELL, AT 
INTERLAKEN, TOLL FOR THE ENGLISH SERVICE. 

In yon walnut shade, a convent stood, 
Surrounded by Alpine solitude ; 
The briar and ivy o'er cloisters hung, 
Thro' which the vespers for ages rung ; 
No footstep was heard of hooded cowl, 
But the screeching of the boding owl, 
For an hundred years had onwards roll'd, 
Since beads were counted, or matins toll'd — * 
What emotions rose within my breast, 
When that bell announc'd the day of rest ! 
The last time swinging thro' ev'ning air, 
No peace could it bring, but it left despair, 
For penances, pains, or priest's device, 
Ne'er yet op'd the gates of Paradise ; — 
Now Christ the way, and truth, it proclaims, 
O'er craggy rocks, and the liquid plains — 
Thro' Him has God been sought, and found, 
By the lone stranger on foreign ground ; 
Ah ! his joy and peace far exceeds, I ween, 
All that could rise from this beauteous scene. 



226 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

IL NATALE. 

From the Italian, by Manzoni. 
1. 

Lo ! yon stupendous rock, 
Slipp'd from its mountain base, 
O'er precipice, with mighty shock, 
It bounds without a trace, 
Till plunging deeply in the plains, 
Immovable, the bulk remains. 

2. 

Immur'd in gloomy shade, 

A cumb'rous mass it lies, 

Nor more while ages bloom and fade, 

Will glitter in the skies, 

Unless some friend a force supply, 

And raise it up again on high. 

i 

3. 

Thus lay the wretched heir 

Of sin, who dar'd transgress, 

Sunk in th' abyss of fell despair, 

By God's pure righteousness, 

From whence proud man could ne'er ascend, 

Divest of succour, or a friend. 

4. 

'Mongst Adam's fallen race, 
Could one for pardon plead ? 
Or rise from out of his disgrace, 
To sign afresh the deed ? 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 227 

Who could th ? infernal conq'ror foil, 
Who of his rightful prey despoil ? 

5. 
" To us a Child is born, 

" To us a Son is giv'n," 

(The foe is of his triumphs shorn) 

Blest messenger of heav'n, 

His hand extends, and thus unites 

His glory to man's ancient rights. 

6. 
From the ethereal spheres, 
An healing fountain flows, 
Which down the precipice appears, 
And sweeps away our woes ; 
Where branches drop this honied dew, 
How beauteous is the wild flow'r's hue ! 

7. 
Earth witness'd Thee a Son, 
To set the captive free, 
Coeval with th' eternal One, 
Time had no hold on Thee : 
Nor worlds their Maker could contain, 
They sprung from chaos at Thy name. 

8. 
Thou deignedst to assume, 
This creature form of clay, 

2 G 



22& MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, 

What merit had he to presume 
To such a bright array ? 
If pardon reigns o'er God's design,. 
Th' immense compassion is divine. 

To bless'd Ephrata wends 

A virgin — spotless, pure, 

The burden under which she bends 

Prov'd Israel's hope and cure — 

This day completes the prophecies, 

That Christ at Bethl'hem should arise. 

10. 

The mother, now behold, 

Within an humble shed, 

Coarse swaddling clothes the child enfold, 

The manger is His bed ; 

Before her babe she bends the knee, 

Who op'd her womb in purity. 

11. 

Now swift heaven's herald wings 
To earth, and peace proclaims, 
Not at the palace gate of kings, 
But on the dreary plains ; 
Around the humble shepherds shone 
A light, unto the world unknown. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 229 

12. 

Night's mantle seern'd unbound, 
So brilliant was the light, 
Myriads of heav'nly hosts surround 
The angel's rapid flight ; 
Hosannas float upon the breeze, 
Till earth renews heav'n's sympathies, 

13. 

Soon as the mission's told, 

The angels quit the ground, 

The midnight clouds again unfold, 

And dies the sacred sound, 

No more is heard, no more is seen. 

But all was not as it had been. 

14. 

These happy shepherds speed 

To Bethl'hem's destin'd inn, 

There saw, as once had been decreed, 

The vanquisher of sin ; 

There in a manger heard the cry 

Of heav'n's eternal majesty. 

15. 

Dear Infant, do not weep, 
Why, trembling, dost Thou wake ? 
The tempests o'er Thy head may sweep. 
But dare not, cannot break ; 



230 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, 

The foe before the victor flies, 
So scatter' d are Thine enemies. 

16. 

In slumber take Thy rest, 
Few heed Thy wondrous birth. 
But east will waft unto the west, 
Thy sov'reignty on earth ; 
Tho' now enveil'd in mortal clay, 
The universe shall own Thy sway. 



UPON READING SOME LINES WHICH THUS END : 

" As in the eye of nature he has liv'd, 
"So in the eye of nature let him die." 

Psalms xxiii. and xxiv. 

What ! is thy bounty spent ! thy blessings elos'd ! 

With these last chilling words, " then let him die !'* 

While there is yet a boon beyond compare, 

A staff to aid his weak and falt'ring step, 

When traversing the dark, the lonely vale, 

A solace when no other friend is nigh, 

A guide to land him in eternal bliss — 

And this most precious never-failing staff 

Is Christ ****** 

Thus, death but opes the portal into life. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 231 

REFLECTIONS ON " THE LAST SUPPER." 
1. 

Now the mysterious cup the Saviour takes, 
Addressing each, " drink this, 't was shed for thee ;" 
The bread (an emblem of his flesh) He breaks 
With these soul touching words, " take, eat, remem- 
b'ring me.' 7 

2. 

" Yet one amongst you will his Lord betray, 

" And seal his doom for ever by a kiss ! — 

" Receive the fatal sop and haste away, 

" I long (tho' not for thee) to ope the gates of bliss!"* 

3. 

The scroll prophetic is at length unroll'd, f 
And Christ is purchased as the vilest slave ! J 
The deed is done ! — the thirty pieces told, 
And Judas struck with guilt, now rushes to the grave. 

4. 

If thou did'st feel the anguish of remorse, 
While laid the dormant spirit in its tomb ; 
What ! when eternity disclos' d thy loss 
Of joys unknown on earth — till now unknown thy 
doom ! 



* St. John xvii, 12. 
t Zach. xi. 12, 13. % Ex. xxi. 32. 



232 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

5. 

Still thousands crowd the solemn sacred board, 
Whose words and works the Lord of life deny ! 
Like maniacs dance around th'avenging sword, 
Their future state content to base upon a lie.* 

6. 
Thrice happy those who can in faith draw near, 
And on their Saviour virtually feed : 
From strength to strength march on till they appear, 
At the last banquet form'd of Abr 'ham's chosen seed. 



FAREWELL TO SWITZERLAND. 
I. 

Farewell, ye smiling vales, 

Yon azure lake, farewell — 

How oft have I linger' d as summer's light gales, 

Came whispering down the dell, 

And swelling out those lateen sails 

Whose shade on the waters fell. 

2. 

Farewell, thou mountain height, 

Wrapp'd in eternal snows, 

Where the wild winged eagle pursues her lone flight, 

To secure a safe repose — 

* Rev. xxi. 27— xxii. 15. — Isaiah xxviii. 15 to 21. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 23& 



Where the rough torrent hid from sight, 
Hoarse brawls, as it headlong flows. 



Farewell, ye varied hues, 

Dropp'd from the sun's career, 

With that blush of glory his last rays diffuse, 

When reaching the western sphere — 

And thou chaste moon, who wakes the muse, 

As night sheds her pensive tear. 

4. 

When lisp'd the last farewell, 

What thrilling conflicts rise ! 

Tho' the vision be lost, remembrance will dwell 

On thy glaciers, lakes, and skies ; 

For oh ! what binds the magic spell '? 

Tis the spirit's kindred ties. 

5. 

The noose in yonder string, 

Uniting dove to dove, 

Is still closer drawn, as each spreads her soft wing ; 

So bound is the knot of love — * 

Form'd while thro' this world wandering ; 

Cemented in realms above. 



* In its extensive meaning— the love of Christ shed upon His 
members. 



234 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



If quitting scenes like this, 

Should raise the bitter sigh, 

What words could describe that perfection of bliss, 

When we view HIM eye to eye — 

Where saints both hopes and fears dismiss, 

Nought fades, nor affections die. 



CONTENTMENT. 

" We fly ; no resting for the foot we find." — Rogers. 

Altho' I say with truth, what few can say, 
My lot is all I wish, yet ev'ry day 
Leaves a memento, which is passing dear ; 
" Thou art a stranger, and a pilgrim here.'" 
Death then I smiling term, the soul's release, 
View terror's king, a messenger of peace ! 



plutarch's juvenal, x. 274. 

Tell me the happiest mortal? once was ask'd, 
By one who in the lap of fortune bask'd — 
No man alive, the lawgiver replied — 
What ! happiness to Lydia's king denied ? 
None, Solon answer'd, can ensure the boon, 
Till death has fix'd his everlasting doom — 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 235 

Croesus was sore abash'd — yet Solon's name 
Subdued, when fortune fail'd, the Persian's flame. 
The moral to the tale, dear friend, discern, 
Christ all in all — wealth nought — thyself a worm. 



ON DINNER PARTIES. 

" Dicebat Socrates : multos homines propterea velle vivere, ut ederent 
et biberent ; se bibere atque esse, ut viveret." 

Is't not enough to feel our mortal state, 

But we must meet to prove it ? yea, e'en more, 

By noisy joy and revelry, attempt 

To drown the rattling of the wheels of time, 

Which we by mad excess are hurrying on ! 

Mine be the pleasures of a purer kind, 

And founded firmly on the base of truth ; 

Here I would revel deeply, and enjoy 

" A feast of reason, and a flow of soul," 

Pleasures that never cloy, but at each step 

Expand, until they burst the fragile shell, 

And lodge the spirit in its native sphere — - 

I prize the casket for the jewel's sake, 

Not pamp'ring this vile flesh to fatten worms, 



2 H 



236 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



ADDRESSED TO THE 

MARITIME PENITENT FEMALE REFUGE SOCIETY, 

Hackney Road, London. 



% Cale: fouttiretr on if act 



St. John viii. 11. 
1. 

One summer's eve, in wand'ring mood, 
A cottage caught my eye, 
Behind it lay a rising wood, 
A brook in front ran by. 

2. 

The wild rose and the eglantine, 
O'erhung the rustic pale, 
The dove coo'd in the dark green pine, 
And sang the nightingale. 

3. 
Sure, sure, methought, this lone retreat, 
Is fraught with peace and joy, 
Remov'd from pride, and man's deceit, 
Or aught to form alloy. 

4. 
Tell me, good man, why look so wan, 
And wherefore blanch'd thy hair ? 
It savours not of years bygone, 
But seems the work of care. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 237 

5. 

Ah ! true, Sir, there's a sad, sad tale, 
Enclos'd within this breast, 
My tongue, ere half was told, would fail, 
My woes it ne'er express' d. 

6. 
Yes, eighteen summers flitted by 
And left us full of bliss ; 
But, oh ! the nineteenth brought a sigh, 
And chang'd my hair to this. 

7. 
The partner of those joyful years, 
'Neath yonder yew tree lies, 
With me she mingled bitter tears, 
Then clos'd her streaming eyes. 



Together sorrow's cup we quaff'd, 
Our child together nam'd ; 
Her portion prov'd too strong a draught, 
And yet the dregs remain' d. 

9. 
Our beautiful, our only child, 
The soft sweet pledge of love, 
How evening hours thy voice beguil'd, 
With nightingale and dove. 



238 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

10. 

Deserted ! I am left alone, 

To stem affliction's blast, 

E'en nightingale and turtle's moan. 

Add sorrows to the past. 

11. 
But are they o'er ? alas ! oh no, 
She lives — she lives a prey — 
This fills the turgid stream of woe, 
Which laves these tresses grey. 

12. 

Perhaps now pointed at with scorn, 
The dupe of ev'ry rake, 
Sick, friendless, houseless, and forlorn ! 
But hold — my heart will break. 

13. 
Good man, I would thy sorrows share, 
But ah ! that cannot be ! 
Yet there's a God who answers pray'r, 
Then bend the suppliant knee. 

14. 
With heavy step, I then withdrew, 
My feet sank in the sod, 
With quiv'ring lips I bid adieu, 
And pointed up to God, 



iMISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 239 

15. 

Ah ! melancholy truth, I cried, 
Is none exempt from woe ? 
The breeze upon the forest sigh'd, 
And seem'd to answer — no. 

16. 
Six summers nigh had pass'd away, 
Ere I return' d once more, 
And now I saw a child at play, 
Before the cottage door. 

17. 

Welcome, kind Sir, the old man said 
(With face serene and calm) — 
Don't run away, my little maid, 
The stranger means no harm. 

18. 

That is the eldest one of four, 
The picture of my own, 
I quite forget I'm turn'd three score, 
Or olden times are flown ; 

19. 
Yet former scenes are not the same, 
My partner is no more ! 
And now a bosom friend I claim, 
Unknown to me before. 



240 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

20. 

Sit down, dear Sir, and you shall hear 
My story's peaceful end, 
How life's last rays my spirits cheer, 
And who I call my friend. 

21. 
When bush and brake were cloth' d in white, 
And all was bound in frost, 
I spied a man by grey twilight, 
Who wander' d, as if lost, 

22. 

Ho ! traveller, if you've gone astray, 
A lodging here you'll find, 
This twilight tells the close of day, 
And hollow blows the wind. 

23. 

I am not lost, he said, but tir'd, 
In plodding thro' the snow, 
This letter brought you as desired, 
Perhaps the hand you know. 

24. 
Oh ! yes, the writing well I knew, 
(But will it bruise or heal '?) 
My stamm'ring tongue replied — will you 
Be pleas'd to break the seal. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 241 

25. 

" Forgive thy child — my tongue is mute — 
" Dear father, weep no more, 
" A refuge for the destitute 
" Has op'd its gen'rous door. 

26. 
" On self-destruction I was bent, 
" To fly from pain and sin, 
" When Heav'n a friend in mercy sent, 
" Who stopp'd, and took me in. 

27. 
" There's nothing more that I require, 
" Ah ! what could be my loss, 
" For I've been taught to strike that lyre, 
" Which hangs upon the cross. 

28. 
" Tho' here I still may meet disdain, 
" Yet all my sorrows cease, 
" For Christ I've learn' d for sinners came, 
" And brings them pardon — peace. 

29. 
" Thy child, dear father, then, forgive, 
<6 1 still deplore my shame, 
" But let us both on Jesus live, 
" If so — well meet again." 



242 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

30. 
Oh ! what a thrill this letter gave, 
It touch'd a secret chord ; 
If Christ, I said, my child forgave, 
The same shall be my Lord. 

31. 
In plaints pour'd forth my aching heart, 
With her's it seem'd to blend, 
My Bible now became my chart, 
And Jesus Christ my Friend. 

32. 
She soon was join'd in sacred bands, 
With one who knew her God, 
And they pursue His lov'd commands, 
The path on which He trod. 

33. 
Forgive me, Sir, if I'm too bold, 
But carry them my love, 
The journey's long, and I am old, 
Still we shall meet above. 

34. 
Oh ! yes, I will your message tell, 
With praise to Jesu's name, 
And now, with joy, I say farewell, 
We all shall meet again. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 243 

35. 

A lengthen' d time, alas ! had fled, 
Ere I my visit paid, 
When ah ! I found her ill in bed, 
Beyond all human aid. 

36. 
Her husband, and her children three, 
Had risen just from pray'r, 
A peace reign'd o'er the family, 
Which only Christians share. 

37. 

Now of her father I would speak, 
Which greatly seem'd to please, 
Then deeply flush' d her beauteous cheek, 
And shew'd the dread disease. 

38. 
Her thoughts pass'd thro' the damp bright eye, 
For voice had lost its tone, 
Then glancing o'er each dear lov'd tie, 
They clos'd ! her spirit's flown ! 

39. 
Could we the pardon'd soul pursue, 
What praise would rend the air, 
To Him who paid the ransom due, 
And those who led her there. 

2 r 



244 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

40. 

The good old man, to end the tale, 
Beside his lovely maid 
Was seated near the cottage pale, 
The Bible open laid. 

41. 

When these sad tidings reach' d their ear, 
Eye met its kindred eye, 
There fell, 'tis true, the sorrowing tear, 
But neither sought reply. 

42. 
And now beneath the dark green yew, 
He shares his partner's grave, 
And as the wild winds whistle through, 
The branches o'er them wave. 



UPON THE TREES OF LIBERTY, 

Erected throughout France, Belgium, and Switzerland. 
" Vox et prceterea nihil.' " 

A leafless, branchless, sapless tree, 
Is all ye boast of liberty — 
From Britons ye have got the stem, 
But all its vigour's found with them. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 245 



THE CHRISTIAN S EPITAPH. 



Friend, I would crave thy sympathetic tear, 

If all were doubt beyond life's barrier — 

If all were clos'd when death had seal'd mine eye 

Then would I ask the homage of a sigh, 

Or had mine heart to earth unduly clung, 

Regrets might then have fallen from thy tongue ; 

But no, dear friend, I call thee to my tomb, 

Not to increase, but dissipate thy gloom, 

Not once more to uplift the fallen veil, 

Which now enshrouds at best a chequer' d tale, 

But to secure thine heritage divine, 

While viewing thro' faith's vista that of mine. 



THE LUKEWARM CHRISTIAN. 

" Death's but a path that must be trod, 

' ' If man would ever pass to God ; 

" A port of calms, a state of ease, 

" From the rough rage of swelling seas." 

A Night Piece on Death. 

Hark ! Christain, hark ! how Parnell sings ! 
Have you so drawn the tyrant's stings ? 
Most heavenly-minded, when in health ; 
But lest he gain a march by stealth, 
Each avenue is guarded close, 
By med'cine chest with pill and dose — 



246 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

With full receipts for ev'ry thrust 
He makes to turn thee into dust. 
Why drink but that, and eat but this, 
If earth is dross, and heaven is bliss *? 
Why seek the most renowned aid, 
„ When aches and pains thy flesh invade ? 
Why warble when there's nought to fear, 
" We've no abiding city here," — 
But if the cholera comes nigh 
You haste away ! Come, answer why ? 
Art thou an hypocrite and cheat, 
Or God's fair promises deceit? 
Dear Reader, hence, let you and I 
So live, as not afraid to die ; 
And may each setting sun rehearse 
Our state described in Parnell's verse. 

" Thrice happy men ! (or find a phrase 
" That speaks your bliss with greater praise) 
" Who most obedient to thy call, 
" Leaving pleasures, leaving all — 
" With heart, with soul, with strength incline, 
" sweetest Jesu, to be thine : 
" Who know thy will, observe thy ways, 
" And in thy service spend their days, 
" E'en death that seems to set them free, 
" But brings them closer still to Thee." 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. '247 

REFLECTIONS OX THE PLAINS OF WATERLOO. 

1 ■ When wholesale murderers in every thing 
Succeed, and small retailers only swing." 

Coltoii's Hypocrisy, 

The clash of amis, the deep-mouth'd cannon's roar, 
The trumpet, and the drum, resound no more ! 
No wild victorious huzzas rend the air, 
Nor the deep groans of anguish and despair : 
Ceres again assumes her peaceful reign, 
Where death's mementos decorate the plain. 
These silently record that dreadful day, 
"When thousands breath' d their precious souls away, 
Flung into one wide grave — beasts, friends, and foes, 
"Where yonder corn luxuriantly grows. 
A countless mass ! Yet, who lies buried here 
That had not once a friend to shed a tear ? 
Ah ! if the north, south, east, and further west, 
Could waft the moans from each distracted breast, 
The doles ome chorns would creation shake, 
The tears convert this dell into a lake. 
Can I revive the blighted bloom of life, 
Thou sonless mother, or thou widow' d wife ? 
Alas ! my song must aggravate thy loss, 
Then let me lead thee to a Saviour's cross ; 
There view the debt that man to justice owes — 
Purchased by sin — death, miseries, and woes. 
Heart-broken mourner ! this, and nothing less, 
Can cheer thy pathway thro' the wilderness : 



248 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

Had but the fatal bullet miss'd its aim, 
The Idol reached the pinnacle of fame, 
Then sunk as Sylla, or Pausanias fell, 
You might have wooed the desolating knell. 
Avaunt ! false, vain regrets, nor once suppose 
That sin's broad way is circled with the rose, 
Or that earth's loveliest scene can yield the soul 
repose. 

Love, joy, and peace, how little understood ! 
We court the evil, and avoid the good ; 
To crush our neighbour every nerve we strain, 
And free-born sons must bear the golden chain ! * 
Where's all your boasting of the battle won, 
Th' enthusiasm rais'd by fife and drum? % 

How you have made the almost conqueror fry, 
Rous' d by the warhoop — " Death, or Victory ! " 
Go, hero, traverse well your country through, 
See woe and penury on every brow ; 
Ask both philosopher and clown the cause, 
And will not each attribute it to wars ? 
If wealth and energy had well combin ? d 
Religion's aid, to renovate mankind, 
One constant joy, one universal smile, 
Would then have risen from our sea-girt isle — 
These blessings, spread around from shore to shore, 
Had echoed gratitude — not cannon's roar. 

* Eight hundred millions of debt. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 249 

Man forms a bitter scourge to fellow man, 
Thou'st fully prov'd it, dreaded Corsican ! 
Is there no chosen curse, no hidden blast, 
No bolt within th' eternal furnace cast, 
Prepar'd to strike the savage monster low, 
Who owes his greatness to his country's woe? 
But silence* — God is Judge — the coffin's clos'd, 
His crimes, and his exploits, are now expos'd, 
Friends — foes — your feeble hands, can none remove ! 
Ah, Lord ! how fathomless eternal love ! 
Yet who can doubt Thy justice, mighty God ! 
When Thou upholdest the avenging rod ? 



THE LOSS. 

" Rich fruit! Heav'n planted! never pluck'dby one." 

Young, 
1. 

There is a void, tho' earth's possessed, 

For imperfection's stamp'd on all — 

What satisfies the craving breast, 

Save Adam's boon before the fall? 

2. 

The world's delight, the world's caress, 
The pomp and grandeur of a throne, 
How vainly these the wish express, 
That in eternity was sown. 

* De mortuis nil nisi bonum. 



250 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

3. 

Fresh springs the flowing streams supply, 
Lost in the ocean's boundless wave, 
So pleasure's torrents fill the eye, 
But in the heart must find a grave. 

4. 
As wearied stags for waters thirst, 
The parched plains for genial show'rs — 
So, Lord, I would these fetters burst, 
Regain in Thee life's noblest pow'rs. 



REFLECTIONS ON TWILIGHT. 

" L'homme aujourd'hui seme la cause, 

Demain Dieu.fait murir l'effet." — Victor Hugo. 

To-morhow glides continually before us ! 

Who dare pretend to say, " To-morrow's mine ! "? 

'Tis as a meteor rushing into space — 

The shadow falling from the lovely moon, 

Which children grasp at, but can never seize ! 

The air that bursts hope's bubbles as they rise ! 

A mist that vanishes before the sun ! 

An ignis-fatuus leading in advance, 

Till the rash follower sinks within a marsh ! 

To-morrow is an enemy to most ; 

It is, where penitence can ne'er avail. 

Had trembling Felix known to-morrow's worth, 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 251 

His deep remorse would now be songs of praise ! 
Ah ! — vain regrets pave hell ! if fathomable — 
Thoughtless infatuist ! how poor ! how blind ! 
The morrow which you anxiously await 
Lies coil'd within the dark and sickly tomb ! 
To-morrow brings reward — or good, or bad ; 
As we have sown to-day, we then shall reap ; 
To-morrow is an endless space of pain, 
Else the fruition of immortal bliss ; 
To-morrow is a day that ne'er arriv'd ; 
But when arriv'd — 'twill be eternity ! 

Here, Philalethes, view thy monitor: 
'Tis Twilight — standing 'fore yon ebon throne ; 
His warning's short, for soon the chilling frown 
Of Night will drive him from her dark domain, 
But you may be an exile left behind. 
Time present, which poor mortals call their own, 
Is as the silent, ever-gliding stream ; 
It bears the trifler to a rugged shore. 
Take heed, lest ere a sun that gilds the west 
Speak to thy conscience — " thou hast lost a day ! " 
He'll rise again, but thee may chide no more ! 
An hour misspent may cost eternal woe, 
But if improv'd, will turn the same to joy ! 
The culprit's dying look upon the cross, 
The hasty plea for mercy, chang'd his doom ; 
He seiz'd the promise as it flitted by, 
The last ! as clos'd his solemn book of fate ! 
2 K 



252 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

The spirit hov'ring round its tenement, 

Heard the good news, then wing'd to Paradise ! 



A Company of Arabs were travelling at sun-rise, and 

when the first level ray shot, glimmering in dew, along 

the surface of the desert, the sonorous voice of the leader 

caused to resound along the sands the solemn summons 

which the Murzzins thunder from the minaret of every 

mosque : — 

" To prayer— to prayer ! God is one God— to prayer— 

To prayer— Mohammed is the prophet of God ! 

To prayer — to prayer — life is flying from you — 

To prayer — to prayer — judgment is drawing near you ! *' 

THE CHRISTIAN^ VERSION. 

To prayer — now chaunt the solemn lay, 
To God, thro' Christ, the living way : 
To prayer — to prayer — for life is flying, 
Tho' man may linger, still he's dying. 
To prayer — for lo ! the judgment-day ; 
Oh ! Spirit, teach these lips to pray ! 



In the corner of the eastern wing of the Palais des Con- 
gres, at Brussels, is to be seen a dog who has never left 
the place where his master fell, during the revolution in 
1830. He is now (April 1836) grown grey, and greets 
every stranger with a snarl, looking upon him as a foe. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 253 

I remember witnessing the same fidelity, evinced by a dog 
to his master, who was slain during the revolution at 
Paris. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE FALL. 

" To mark a Friend's remains, these stones arise, 
I never knew but one ; and here he lies." — Byron. 

1. 

Bless'd hour ! when man in God's image arose, 
When all seem'd good at the evening's close ; 
When Adam the sceptre with justice sway'd, 
And each of his creatures in love obeyed. 
How bright must have been the first morning's rays, 
When earth join'd with heaven in songs of praise ! 

2. 
But ere the chorus in harmony swell'd, 
The angels had fall'n ! and man rebell'd ! 
The curse roll'd in thunder thro' earth and air, 
Th' exuberant vales became barren and bare. 
Each animal look'd upon man as his foe, 
And earth breath' d disease — mortality — woe. 

3. 

They ne'er, tho' with reason endow'd, could scan 
Thy degenerate state — proud, fallen man ! 
The curse has descended to them, it is true, 
But this poor dog ne'er ingratitude knew. 
Hypocrisy, pride, dark malice, and lies, 
Fallen man ! are thine own deformities. 



254 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

4. 

How oft the fresh, solemn sable is worn, 
When the heartless wearer has ceas'd to mourn ! 
How oft are emblems of death to be found 
In the mazy dance ! when all heard around 
Must drown the echoing funeral knell ! 
While the dog lies down where his master fell ! 

5. 

Yes, here, only here, he seeks a repose — 
A stranger, an outcast, surrounded by foes ! 
Perchance he partook of his master's bread ; 
But not for his sake, the warrior bled. 
Oh ! sinner debas'd, tho' a Saviour came, 
To die in thy stead — thou reviles t his name ! 

6. 
Degenerate man ! what a piteous doom ! 
Yet if felt, thy Saviour disperses the gloom — 
For thee, unbars the portals of heaven, 
While angels sing — " a sinner forgiven ! 
Now, this faithful dog, ev'ry time you see, 
By nature, confess, is better than thee. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 255 

ON A CHRISTIAN SMUGGLER. 

Rom. xiii. 7, 8. 

Upon hearing that one, who professed the doctrine of Christ, cen- 
sured his Sovereign's Laws, because he was detected in smuggling 
some articles through the Custom-house at Dover. 

1. 

Can I believe the story to be true, 
Of one professing the atoning Cross, 
Attempting to defraud his country's due, 
Which he pretends to stigmatize as dross ! 
And then against his sovereign's laws inveigh, 
Because it does not suit him to obey. 

2. 

Were these the precepts that our Saviour taught ? 
Is this a model from the Christian mould ? 
Scoffers beware ! for counterfeits are wrought, 
As " all that glitters is not standard gold." 
King, Laws, and Country is the Christian's song, 
He loves his freedom to do right, not wrong. 

3. 

Go, Legislator, frame a sep'rate code 
For all who pure morality profess ; 
On them inflict, at least, a triple load, 
When they are found so basely to transgress. 
Laws were for villains made, the poet sang, 
And those amenable, compose the gang, 



256 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



TO MY LYRE. 



" Le lyre en se brisant jette un son plus sublime ; 

La lampe qui s'eteint tout-a-coup se ranime." — Lamartine. 

1. 

Once more my trembling fingers sweep 
Across thy faithful strings, 
And, "like departed joys in sleep," 
Remembrance softly brings 
Again those halcyon days gone by, 
With kindred souls entwin'd — 
As thro' the ruins heard a sigh, 
When breathes the murm'ring wind. 

2. 

There vibrates still thy slumb'ring strain, 

As time's swift wings deploy, 

Which gives the once-lov'd scene again, 

With all its peace and joy- — 

And why? my father's hand I view'd, 

His voice was heard in all, 

Whether in Alpine solitude, 

Or in the waterfall. 

3. 

At eventide 'twas sweet to rove, 
Where night's bird told her tale, 
Where fire-flies lit the citron grove, 
Or light winds swell'd the sail, 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, 257 

When sunset ting'd the dark blue sea, 
Or moon ilium' d the lake — 
My father led thy minstrelsy, 
And bid thy spirit wake. 

4. 

How swifty did the seasons glide, 

Tho' on a foreign land, 

With her, dear partner, by my side, 

And this, our little band; 

What beauteous scenes have met our gaze, 

What classic ground we've trod ! 

And yet they were not dreamy days, 

Each brought us nearer God. 

5. 
In sorrow's hour thy plaintive notes 
Have rung the last farewell, 
As on the whisp'ring breezes floats 
Thy dol'rous funeral knell. 
But ah ! 'twas sorrow for a day, 
While op'd the gates divine ; 
Tho' clouds obstruct the brightest ray, 
When pass'd, how clear 'twill shine. 

6. 

Tho' Amphion's lyre some minstrel own, 
On Sappho's ten- string' d lute, 



258 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 

If earth the theme — when he is flown,* 

To him the chords are mute. 

True, earth may spread around his fame, 

Yet not a note can rise, 

His dust may bear a glorious name, 

But he, the spirit, dies. 

7. 

Go, sleep awhile, my faithful lyre, 
Unheeded and unknown ; 
Could'st thou a giddy world inspire 
By thy ungenial tone ? 
The minstrel's hand no sooner rests 
Than breathe afresh thy chords, f 
To swell the chorus of the guests, 
Before the Lord of lords. 



* Gal. Vi. 7, 8. t Rev. xiv. 13. 



HK225-78 



JOHN TAYLOR, JUN., PRINTER, COLCHESTER. 




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